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stood before her Page ^6 


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THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


By 

CORNELIA BAKER 

Author of 

Coquo and the Klng*s Children 


With Jllustratiom by 

FANNY Y. CORY 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright 1905 
The Bobbs-Merrill Company 


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CONTENTS 


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CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Inmates of the Old Castle i 

II A Visitor TO THE Castle i8 

III The Object of the Visit - 29 

IV The Arrival of the Little Marquis 37 

V Aunt Catalina Disciplines the Little Marquis 57 

VI Gris Creates Excitement 67 

VII Guillot’s Story of the Sculptor 75 

VIII Petronilla and Maroc 88 

IX The Consequences of Boasting 95 

X The Arrival of the Count 117 

XI A Sixteenth-Century Christmas 126 

XII The Children Start on a Journey 131 

XIII Pedro and the Contrabandista 144 

XIV Petronilla and the Mysterious Word 155 

XV “The Marguerite OF Marguerites” 164 

XVI Life at the Court of Navarre 177 

XVII Queen Marguerite’s Plans for the Twins 186 

XVIII The Princess Jeanne of Navarre 199 

XIX The Visit OF Francis THE First 215 


XX A Rebellious Little Princess 


226 


XXI A Captious Bride, A Gorgeous Wedding and a 


Hunt With Hawk and Hounds 235 

XXII His Majesty’s Golden Pheasant 248 

XXIII Queen Eleanor and the Pomander-Box 262 

XXIV Her Majesty Consults the Astrologer 272 

XXV Charles the First in France — 

What Happened TO Pedro ? 288 

XXVI The King Sends for the Queen’s Page 297 

XXVII Amazement of the Doctor and the King’s 

Jester 308 

XXVIII Night in the Old Castle 317 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

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THE (QUEEN’S PAGE 


CHAPTER I 

THE INMATES OF THE OLD CASTLE 

Pedro and Petronilla lived in a country called 
Bearn or French Navarre, now the southwest cor- 
ner of France. It was a beautiful region watered 
by sparkling streams and dotted by vine-clad hills 
where grapes, kissed by the golden sunshine, 
ripened into delicious richness, later to yield their 
juices for amber and ruby wine. 

Above the hills and on the south of them lay, like 
a string of pearls, the snow-capped Pyrenees, and 
this boy and girl lived in a castle built on the side 
of one of the mountains. 

Many years ago the walls of their home had 
echoed with the laughter of noble and even of royal 
guests, and a host of retainers here had served their 
masters, while richly-clad ladies and gentlemen 
had tripped up and down its broad staircase and 
had danced in its long salon. 

But the present owner had no money with which 
to entertain distinguished guests, and bats and owls 
flew in and out through the banquet-hall, which 
was in a portion of the building long since fallen 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


to decay. The family occupied one wing of the 
castle, to which everything that could make the 
rooms habitable had been conveyed, but even then 
the apartments could not be called cozy or cheer- 
ful. The best room had a carpet of Aragon leather, 
and on the stone floors of the others were thrown 
bear-skins, while the furniture was cumbersome 
and not at all pleasing to the eye. 

The apartment which the children liked best of 
all was the great kitchen, which was kept very 
clean by old Jules, the cook, and Olympic, his wife. 
On the rafters were hung provisions of various 
kinds, hams and bags of such vegetables as will 
keep during the winter, with bundles of various 
herbs for seasoning meats and the more bitter vari- 
eties used as medicines. On the shelves against the 
walls were arranged the cooking utensils, the three- 
legged copper pots, scoured and shining like gold 
in the light of the fire, which, in the winter-time 
roared and snapped in the wide chimney and wel- 
comed you like a good friend. In the kitchen, 
curled up on the old settle in the corner, the chil- 
dren spent many a pleasant hour. They had 
watched old Jules prepare so many meals it seemed 
to them that they, too, might be able to cook ; and, 
indeed, they had once tried it, though with dis- 
astrous results. 

When a walk in the fresh mountain air had made 
them hungry, they liked to see old Jules take a 
plucked fowl and put it on the spit above the 


THE INMATES OF THE OLD CASTLE 


blaze; this he turned with great care until it was 
of a fine golden brown and sent forth an appetiz- 
ing odor. The bird was served at table with a 
sauce made of lavender or caraway seed, which 
would not be relished to-day, for appetites, like a 
great many other things, have changed during the 
last three hundred and fifty years. No, Jules would 
not to-day, perhaps, win the cordon bleu^ which 
means blue ribbon, but he was very proud of his 
feats as a cook. He could make a pie of blackbirds, 
though I do not know that he ever had as many as 
four-and-twenty for his dainty dish, and I am 
quite positive that the birds never sang when the 
pie was opened ; and he could roast chestnuts in the 
hot ashes until they would melt i% your mouth. 

What wonderful stories used to be told in the 
evening, when Pedro, Petronilla, Jules, Olympie, 
Tomas the groom, Lenoir the herdsman, and some 
of the people from the village below sat around 
the kitchen fire. Tales of the blanquettes, or white 
fairies of the mountains, who roamed from peak 
to peak, and, poising on the highest point, sang 
mournful songs ; and of the gnomes who live under 
the ground and guard, the treasures of the earth. 
Jules declared that with his own ears he had heard 
those gnomes digging under the ground, and 
Olympie would nod sagely and corroborate all her 
husband’s statements, as a good wife should do, 

Pedro and Petronilla were twins, and were so 
much alike that their Aunt Catalina often declared 


3 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


it was a mercy that they were not both boys or both ! 
girls, for in that case one might often have been 
soundly cuffed for a piece of mischief planned and 
executed by the other. They were lovely children, 
with straight noses and lips like coral; and old 
Mother Nature, after giving them large dark eyes 
and black brows, delicately arched, had allowed 
them to have golden hair, which served to enhance 
their beauty and to make it the more striking. 

The pure mountain air made them active and 
healthy in mind as well as in body; they wanted to 
find out all there was to know about everything, 
and they always asked a great many questions about 
whatever was told them. As they never played with 
other children, they talked all matters over with 
each other, and the fact that their lives had been 
passed in the companionship of grown people 
made them wise beyond their years. 

Although money was scarce in the household, 
there were horses in the stables, and the children 
each possessed one, which they had learned to ride 
almost as soon as they could walk, such being the 
custom in those days in noble families. Attended 
by Tomas they were allowed to ride down to the 
village in the valley, and sometimes several miles 
beyond, according to the humor of Tomas, who, 
having lived at the castle ever since the children 
were babies, was sometimes inclined to be dic- 
tatorial. 

But the animal the children liked best of all was 

4 


THE INMATES OF THE OLD CASTLE 


Tonito, a little brown donkey, with the full extent 
of ear allowed to his tribe. The amount of stuff 
this little fellow could carry was a wonder to be- 
hold. He always was taken to the woods when 
fagots were gathered, and came home so loaded 
down that, had it not been for a glimpse of the 
tips of two ears and four little feet, you would have 
said a bush was trotting along the path all by 
itself. Pedro had once loaned Tonito to the village 
cobbler, who wanted to change his place of resi- 
dence from one cottage to another; and no mov- 
ing van was required, even had such a thing been 
heard of at that time, for chairs, bedding and 
benches were tied to the back of Tonito, who, with 
great gravity and decorum, carried them from the 
old to the new abode. 

For that period the twins were very well edu- 
cated. They could read and write — an accomplish- 
ment which many of the lords and ladies of the 
time did not possess — and they understood French 
and Spanish, having practice in speaking the for- 
mer language with Jules, who was a Frenchman, 
and the latter with Tomas, who was a Spaniard, 
as well as with occasional travelers who came up 
from Spain and down from France, and to whom 
the door of the castle was always open. 

You might know all the modern tongues, yet you 
could not understand the language usually spoken 
in the household of Pedro and Petronilla. The 
great Henry of Navarre, who afterward lived in 
5 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


the same country, upon being asked, when a child, 
by the King of France, “Will you be my son?” re- 
plied, '"Ed que es lo pay,'* which means, “There is 
my father,” and which sounds to us like mere baby 
talk. So during this story we shall be obliged to 
translate their language and put it into modern 
English. 

Brother Frangois, a Franciscan friar, who be- 
longed to a monastery beyond the village, came to 
the castle three or four times a week to teach the 
children. Their mother, and their aunt, who lived 
with them, greatly respected Brother Frangois, to 
whom they told all their troubles and of whom they 
asked advice. He was very devout, and was sup- 
posed to fast a great deal, though he never seemed 
to be fasting when he came to the castle ; in fact, 
none appeared to enjoy a goblet of wine and a roast 
fowl more than did this learned friar, whose 
strong white teeth certainly seemed to be made for 
use. He wore sandals on his bare feet, and he wore 
a black cowl, or hood; his long brown robe had 
flowing sleeves and was confined at the waist by a 
rope. One day, the children, unknown to their eld- 
ers, bought of a peddler a shining silken cord of 
bright crimson, which they intended should take 
the place of the rope. 

“He will be delighted with it!” exclaimed 
Petronilla. “It will be the only nice thing he has.” 
But Brother Frangois shook his head and smiled 
when they offered it to him, telling them that he 
6 


THE INMATES OF THE OLD CASTLE 


must wear just that rope and no other girdle. 
Petronilla felt so bad about it that she cried, but 
the twins finally tied the cord about the neck of 
Tonito and, thus worn, it looked very well and at- 
tracted considerable attention when he went to the 
village. 

Pedro and Petronilla considered their mother 
more beautiful than the pictures of the Madonna 
in the castle chapel. She always wore black, and, 
except on Sundays and fete-days, the goods of her 
gown was quite coarse. She often was very sad, 
as though thinking of some trouble in the past, but 
like the people in that part of the world, she could 
easily change from grave to gay, for her natural 
disposition was a joyous one, and she liked to take 
a bright view of things. 

The person who ruled supreme in the family, 
and who did all the planning and the heavy scold- 
ingj was Aunt Catalina, who was their mother’s 
aunt. Brother Frangois more than once had told 
the children in her presence that their Aunt Cata- 
lina was a blessing for which they could never be 
too grateful ; at another time he admonished them 
always to cultivate the spirit of patient resignation, 
and even to be willing to part with their greatest 
blessing, should it seem best to do so. 

“Then,” said Pedro with considerable animation, 
“we are perfectly willing to give up Aunt Cata- 
lina.” 

What appeared to be a twinkle shone for a mo- 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

ment in the eyes of the friar; then he scolded the 
boy for making such a remark. 

‘‘But why do you say he should not make such 
remarks?” asked Petronilla, who always took her 
brother’s part. “You have called our Aunt Cata- 
lina a blessing more than once, and she likes to 
hear you say it, for she always gives you a cup of 
wine and something nice to eat when you talk like 
that. Then you say we should be resigned to part 
with our blessings, and Pedro tells you we could 
part with Aunt Catalina — for which you scold 
him.” 

“That,” said the good friar, “is a matter which 
you will more fully understand when you grow 
older,” which was a very easy way of getting out 
of a difficulty. 

Aunt Catalina was one of those persons who con- 
sider it their duty to object to things. This admira- 
ble old lady was convinced that, had she been con- 
sulted when the universe was created, there would 
have been many changes for the better. She ob- 
jected to children and often remarked that people 
should have been sent down from Heaven full- 
grown, for children were always under one’s feet 
when not wanted and never to be found when really 
needed; they required constantly to be patched and 
darned, and their usefulness was out of all propor- 
tion to the size of their appetites. When her tem- 
per was keyed to an unusually high pitch, and 
when she was particularly exasperated with the 
8 


THE INMATES OF THE OLD CASTLE 


children, she would remark that people whose 
veins contained two kinds of blood would never 
come to any good. This assertion greatly puzzled 
the twins, who wondered what their blood was 
like, and resolved, when they cut or scratched 
themselves, closely to examine the result. 

One day when Pedro was playing with Jules’ 
knife, which he had taken from the shelf where it 
belonged, he accidentally cut his finger on the 
sharp blade. Hastily replacing the knife where he 
had found it he joined his sister outside and the 
two examined the small wound with intense in- 
terest. 

‘^My blood is just red; there is not another color 
with it,” finally remarked Pedro in a decisive tone. 
“From what Aunt Catalina said, I thought some 
of it must be yellow or blue.” 

“Perhaps it is only red in our hands and arms,” 
suggested his sister. “All the rest of it may be of 
another color. I will tell you what I think about 
it,” she went on thoughtfully; “you remember 
when Aunt Catalina made you that warm doublet 
last winter, and there was not enough cloth to fin- 
ish it, she pieced out the sleeves with goods of a 
lighter shade. Now I believe that when the good 
God made us there was not enough material that 
matched, and we had to be pieced out.” 

“But why should the material have been scarce 
just for you and me? I do not think it was fair,” 
returned the boy not unreasonably. 

9 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

^‘Do you not see? There were two of us which 
the good God was obliged to make at the same 
time, else we could not be twins.” 

“Then it seems to me that it would have been 
easier to have given you all the red blood and me 
all the yellow, or whatever the other color is,” re- 
turned her brother reflectively. 

“Then we should not have been alike,” said 
Petronilla. 

This explanation did not satisfy the boy. It 
seemed at best to have been a poor arrangement, 
and he mentioned the matter to his mother one eve- 
ning when Aunt Catalina was safely out of the way 
in her own room. 

“Mother,” said he, “why is it that our aunt re- 
proaches us for having two kinds of blood? Is it 
anything we can help or should be ashamed of?” 

Their mother pushed her embroidery frame 
aside, drew the children toward her, and, putting 
an arm about each of them, said: “There is noth- 
ing you can help and naught to cause you shame. 
The worst blood that courses through your veins 
comes from your mother.” 

“Then, if that be the worst, the best should make 
me a king!” cried her son. 

She kissed him on the forehead. “Son of my 
heart, my true little knight!” she murmured. 
“No,” she continued, “you are not a king, but you 
are of noble blood. Your name, Velasco, suggests 
little to you, but out in the world it is known as an 


10 


THE INMATES OF THE OLD CASTLE 


illustrious Spanish name, being that of the heredi- 
tary Constable of Castile, and your great-grand- 
father enjoyed the favor and confidence of Ferdi- 
nand and Isabella. As your curiosity seems to be 
excited, I will tell you the history of my life.” 

Then she told them how the Kingdom of Na- 
varre used to extend over the Pyrenees into Spain, 
and that the Spanish monarchs, not contented with 
the discovery of that wonderful New World over 
the seas, with banishing the Moors and hacking up 
the Jews, must also appropriate the little country 
of Navarre. 

“At that time,” said their mother, “my father 
was a goldsmith in the city of Pamplona. After 
the surrender, which was made by our weak king 
without a word, the city was filled with Spanish 
soldiers. These usurpers I was taught to hate; 
but during the fair, which is held there every year 
in honor of Saint Fermin, I beheld a Spaniard 
who filled my heart with love instead of detesta- 
tion. To my eyes he was as handsome as an Adonis, 
and he was so merry, so light-hearted, and so kind, 
that I prayed to Saint Joseph that, should a hus- 
band be given me, he should be like the youth who 
filled my thoughts. But when I learned that he 
was the younger son of the great Velasco family, 
esteemed and honored by the king and queen, I 
felt that I must put all thoughts of him from my 
mind, for I, you know, was the daughter of a 
merchant, and must mate with one of my own 

II 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


station. But Hernandez declared that for him no 
barrier existed; yes, Hernandez was like that; he 
heeded no voice but the voice of the heart. He for- 
got the beautiful and gracious ladies of the court 
and thought only of me.” 

Her eyes became dreamy and her lips curved 
into a smile, as though she still felt the joy 
of it all. 

“But my father was proud, in his way,” she went 
on, “and he said that no daughter of his should en- 
ter a family where she was not welcome, or mate 
with one of a race we looked upon as our foes. So 
Hernandez stole me from my father in the night. 
We ran away together and were secretly wedded. 
My husband was disinherited and possessed noth- 
ing but this ruined estate, which came to him from 
his mother. There surely was a curse upon us be- 
cause we disobeyed our parents. After two short 
happy years, Hernandez was killed while hunting, 
and I was left alone in this bleak world with my 
two babies!” 

She buried her face in her hands and the chil- 
dren slipped to a window-seat in the farther end 
of the room, where they conversed in whispers. 

“But I don’t yet understand about the two kinds 
of blood,” said Pedro. 

“I do,” said his sister; “our father was noble, 
you know, and our mother had just goldsmith’s 
blood in her veins, while our Aunt Catalina has 
no blood at all to speak of.” 

12 


THE INMATES OF THE OLD CASTLE 


“I suppose not,” returned Pedro. ‘T wonder if 
our father ran away with Aunt Catalina, too?” 

^‘Oh, no,” replied Petronilla confidently, “why 
should any one want to run away with her? It 
would be so much more natural just to leave her 
alone and go very far away in the other direction.” 

“Do you know what I heard Jules say to Olym- 
pie about her one day, when they thought I was not 
listening?” asked Pedro. 

“No, tell me about it,” said Petronilla, glancing 
uneasily toward the door, lest the subject of their 
conversation should suddenly appear. 

“Olympie wondered why a brisk, industrious 
woman like Aunt Catalina had not married, and 
Jules said it was because she had too much pepper 
in her nature. He said that everybody should be 
made of honey, starch and pepper. The honey 
is to make them agreeable and pleasant, and there 
should be a good deal of it. There should be starch 
enough to make them keep impertinent people at 
a distance, and there should be just a dash of pep- 
per to make a bit of temper; for a person without 
a temper, he said, amounts to nothing. Now Jules 
said that in Aunt Catalina’s case all the honey had 
been left out and there was a good deal of starch 
and an awful lot of pepper.” 

Their mother now joined them at the window; 
she had regained her self-possession and was calm 
as usual. “Come, my children,” she said, “I wish 
to show you something.” 


13 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


She led the way to her room and lifted the lid of 
a large chest which stood by the bed, and which the 
children often had attempted to open, but had al- 
ways found locked. Their mother now took from 
it a velvet doublet, embroidered with gold and 
trimmed with a row of small gold buttons down the 
outside of the sleeves ; there was also a man’s velvet 
cloak and a pair of gold spurs. 

“These were worn by your father,” she said, 
“and here is his sword, the finest that could be 
made in Toledo.” She drew from its sheath the 
slender, shining blade and bent it into a curve. 
Pedro held his breath lest it should be broken, but 
it regained its former shape unharmed. Then she 
took up a dagger, the handle of which was set with 
jewels, glimmering and glowing in the firelight. 

“There was a time,” said Senora Velasco, “when 
I thought of the jewels in this dagger and of what 
they might bring. But the weapon was an heirloom 
of the Velasco family and I could not bear to part 
with it. I believe now that it will not be nec- 
essary to sacrifice it, unless some unexpected mis- 
fortune should befall us. And so my son shall have 
the dagger as well as the sword wielded so bravely 
by his father.” 

Pedro’s eyes sparkled; that splendid sword, that 
glistening dagger, would be his own. How he 
wished he could begin to wear them this minute! 

Petronilla was beginning to feel somewhat for- 
lorn and to wish that something could be found for 
14 


THE INMATES OF THE OLD CASTLE 

her, when her mother took an ivory box from the 
chest, saying: ‘‘And this one day shall belong to 
my Nilla.” 

The little girl gave a cry of delight as she lifted 
from it a long chain set at intervals with jewels 
which glowed a deep red. Attached to it was a 
round gold ball about the size of a walnut, beauti- 
fully carved, and showing a number of holes from 
which emitted a faint, though delightful, odor. 

“This pomander-box belonged to the Countess 
de Velasco, your grandmother, and is the only 
souvenir your father possessed of her, for she died 
when he was a child. The perfume it contains was 
made by the ladies of the Velasco family, and was 
their secret, but I know how it was put together and 
just the quantity of herbs and spices necessary to 
yield that delicious fragrance, which many tried to 
produce and failed. So when my Nilla is a young 
lady she shall wear this ornament and enjoy the 
fragrance that distinguished the ladies of her 
family.” 

Petronilla threw the chain about her neck and 
played with the ball, swinging it back and forth. 
“Oh, let me begin to wear it right away!” she 
pleaded. 

“Child of my heart! of what are you thinking? 
Such an ornament on a small girl is out of the ques- 
tion.” 

From the bottom of the chest their mother took 
a gown of yellow satin and a black lace mantilla. 

15 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


“It was thus I dressed on fete-days and when there 
was a ball in Pamplona,” said she. “And there 
were ornaments of gold for my neck and my arms, 
for my father did not stint me.” 

“How happy it must have made you to wear 
such a beautiful gown!” cried her daughter. “Put 
it on, mother.” 

“No, no ; that would be foolish.” 

“Oh, please, mother, let us see you as you used to 
look,” pleaded Pedro. 

“Very well, naughty ones, but the gorgeous color 
will make your mother look older and more 
faded,” — and she threw it over her arm and left the 
room. 

After a while there appeared a lady whom the 
children, had they not known beforehand of the 
change of costume, would have had difficulty in 
recognizing. The soft, shimmering satin fell about 
her in graceful folds ; her little feet were encased in 
slippers of the same color and, twisted about her 
fine head and shoulders, were the folds of the 
mantilla. 

“Oh, mother, you are as lovely as a queen 1” ex- 
claimed Pedro. A remark which, though intended 
as the finest of compliments, was not strictly a stu- 
pendous one ; for queens are not necessarily beauti- 
ful. 

Senora Velasco laughed gaily at her son’s pretty 
speech, the sadness occasioned by recollections of 
the past was forgotten and she was as merry as a 

i6 


THE INMATES OF THE OLD CASTLE 


young girl. “How light-hearted I used to be, and 
how I used to dance !” she said. 

“Show us, mother,” said Petronilla, handing her 
a pair of castanets. 

Senora Velasco began to hum a soft and dreamy 
tune, and, clicking the castanets, she swayed now 
this way, now that, her feet moving in and out in 
measured rhythm, her eyes beaming, her lips smil- 
ing, a picture of grace and beauty; for, after all, 
she was but twenty-seven, which is not so very old. 

The children, catching the contagion, joined 
their mother, and the three were merrily tripping 
the seguidilla when a harsh voice at the door ex- 
claimed: “Pepa! What nonsense is this?” It was 
Aunt Catalina who stood in the doorway, with her 
hands raised in astonishment. 

“We are rejoicing in our two kinds of blood,” 
laughed Pedro, and his mother, recovering from 
her momentary confusion, said: “I have told the 
children of the illustrious family to which they be- 
long,. and no more shall you speak to them. Aunt, 
of their mixed blood, as if it were a reproach to 
them. You are prone to taunt them because you 
envy them; for you know that while your family 
and mine is of humble origin, my children belong 
to one of the noblest houses of Castile, which has 
for its motto, ‘Before rocks were rocks the Velascos 
were Velascos.’ ” 

And for the first time since she had learned to 
talk Aunt Catalina had absolutely nothing to say. 
17 


CHAPTER II 


A VISITOR TO THE CASTLE 

At the close of one summer day the children sat 
on the stone seat of the window on the stairs and 
watched the sun play tricks with the snow-capped ; 
peaks opposite. Old Sol had been smiling brightly i 
all day, and was in a very good humor, so he threw j 
a mantle of rich crimson over the peaks ; then, as if 
repenting of this lavish expenditure of color, he 
faded it out to a pale pink; then, turning sulky, he 
robbed the mountains altogether of their tint of 
rose, giving them a cold blue instead, which aft- 
erward would disappear in the mists of twilight. 

The twins did not watch for this last transforma- 
tion, for on the road which wound along the side 
of the mountain to the castle, they noticed two men 
riding side by side. Visitors were not so frequent 
as not to attract attention, and the children won- 
dered who these men could be. 

“The one on the donkey is Brother Frangois,” 
said Pedro, when the riders had approached 
nearer. “I should know him at any distance; but 
the gentleman with him is no one we ever have 
seen.” 

“Well, at any rate, it is no one who could harm 

i8 



The children, catching the contagion, joined their mother 

Page 7/ 




A VISITOR TO THE CASTLE 


us, for in that case Brother Frangois would not be 
with him,” observed Petronilla. 

Aunt Catalina came down the staircase and 
paused to gaze at the new-comers, who by this time 
had stopped at the gate. The stranger, dressed in 
a black riding-suit, was a stout, elderly man with 
white hair, who dismounted in a leisurely manner, 
as one who feels the weight of his years. 

^^He is very old, very plain and very cross,” re- 
marked Petronilla, who always made up her mind 
instantly, and expressed her opinion immediately 
afterward. 

“He is nothing of the kind,” said Aunt Catalina. 
“He is a fine personable gentleman. I am going to 
change my gown and put on my new cap.” 

“Let us run down and find out who it is,” said 
Pedro. 

But their aunt gripped each of them by the arm. 
“You will do nothing of the kind,” she cried. 
“Fancy a gentleman come to pay us a visit and be- 
ing greeted at the gate by a couple of children, who 
come tumbling down the terrace like sheep rush- 
ing from the top of the mountain. Stay where you 
are until you are sent for,” — and she withdrew to 
her chamber to make the necessary changes in her 
toilet. 

“Perhaps it is some one who wants to marry Aunt 
Catalina,” said Petronilla, who was fond of ro- 
mantic stories. “Do you not remember the story 
Jules tells of the princess in the castle who let down 
19 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


her hair so the prince could, by holding on to it, 
climb up the wall?” 

“Aunt Catalina’s hair is not long enough to reach 
over the window-sill,” returned her brother. “You 
think everything is going to be like a fairy story.” 

The twins were resolved to learn all about the 
stranger as soon as their aunt had gone down stairs, 
but they were obliged to wait for some time, for her 
toilet was not made in a moment. When she reap- 
peared they saw that not only had she changed her 
gown and cap, but that she wore about her neck a 
string of gold beads which never were seen -except 
upon great occasions. 

No sooner had Aunt Catalina disappeared down , 
the stairway than the children ran down the back' 
way, well knowing that all kinds of news by some ! 
unknown method is wafted almost immediately] 
from the drawing-room to the kitchen. There they 
found Olympie plucking a pair of fowls so rapidly 
that the feathers flew in every direction, while old 
Jules, half-demented between his anxiety that the 
fire should be just right for the roasting of the 
fowls, and his desire to be at work on his pastry, 
was running wildly back and forth from the 
kitchen to the pantry. 

It would be useless to ask any questions ofi 
Olympie, for she was always cross when she was 
busy, and always silent when she was cross; but 
Jules was always in a good humor. 

“Tell us all about it, Jules,” coaxed Petronilla.' 

20 


A VISITOR TO THE CASTLE 


“Who is the strange gentleman who came just now? 
Has he come to marry Aunt Catalina?” 

The old man stared at her for a moment; then he 
dropped the bellows which he had seized to blow 
the fire, and, placing his hands on his fat sides, he 
laughed until the tears came. 

“Go on with your work,” said Olympie. “If you 
stand there guffawing like a clown this supper will 
not be ready before midnight.” 

Her husband gave vent to a ho! ho! ho! which 
had been ready to explode when she began to 
speak; then dropping on his knees he again went to 
work at the fire. “No, my child,” he replied, as he 
worked away, “it is no one who comes to be mar- 
ried, for I suspect that he has a wife and family al- 
ready, and perhaps even grandchildren. It is Mon- 
sieur de Beaurepas, who is a physician at Pau, and 
he comes to see the Senora Velasco upon a very im- 
portant matter, which he will reveal to her after 
supper. He has traveled all day and is very tired, 
for gentlemen of his age and of his weight can 
not endure the fatigue which can be borne easily 
by younger men. Brother Frangois has long known 
him, and he says that he is a very distinguished 
physician and has made some cures that are little 
short of miraculous.” 

“But no one here is ill,” said Pedro. 

“No, thank heaven, no one ever is ill in this 
house ! And it is not to visit the sick that be is here. 
Ere long we shall know the object of his visit.” 

21 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


Olympic was now polishing a silver dish, which 
never had been used since the children could re- 
member; then she filled it with fresh almonds, 
which in their outside shells resembled withered 
green peaches. Jules muttered something about 
preparing a sweetmeat, which they never had 
tasted, and the children realized what a fine and 
splendid thing it is to have company, guests who 
are of sufficient importance to make necessary the 
preparation of all sorts of good things. They 
wished that such visitors would arrive at the castle 
every day in the year. 

But the question which now agitated the twins 
was, would they be allowed to come to the supper- 
table or would they be sent to bed? Their anxiety 
regarding the matter was so great as to be almost 
painful. They asked Jules what he thought 
about it. 

“That,” said the old man, beginning to beat a 
dish of eggs with a whack, whack, whack that al- 
most drowned his voice, “is a question difficult to 
answer. Taken separately the senora would say 
‘yes’; but your aunt would say ‘no’; approached 
when they are together your aunt’s influence would 
be felt and it would be ‘no’. And there you 
have it.” 

The children ran away in search of their mother. 
She was in the drawing-room but, alas ! so was their 
aunt. Both were waiting for their guest to emerge 
from his apartment. Brother Frangois sat by a 
22 


A VISITOR TO THE CASTLE 

table, reading his breviary by the light of a bronze 
lamp, shaped like a sauce-boat. 

‘^Oh, mother,” cried Petronilla, “can we not go 
to the supper-table to-night?” 

“What an idea!” exclaimed their aunt, before 
their mother could reply. “This gentleman is ac- 
customed to be about the court and to see only great 
people. He even has dined in the queen’s banquet- 
hall, and what would he think to be placed at the 
table with two hungry children?” 

“But we will not act hungry and he will not 
know that we are,” said Pedro. “Besides, I should 
not wonder if he is hungry himself; he would be if 
he knew what we are going to have. Jules is pre- 
paring a pair of fowls that are going to be delicious 
and a meat pastry and something that is going to 
be all sweet and crusty and — ” 

Pedro was interrupted by a crash. It was the 
prayer-book of Brother Francois, which had fallen 
to the floor, and which the friar hastily regained, 
and began to peruse with renewed assiduity. 

“No matter what we are going to have,” said 
Aunt Catalina acridly, “you are not coming to the 
table. It is out of all reason, and let us hear no 
more about it.” 

Unfortunately, neither of the children was per- 
fect, but of the two, the temper of Petronilla was 
perhaps the more fiery. In the composition of this 
small girl nature had not been niggardly in the 
matter of pepper. 

2 $ 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

“Aunt Catalina,” said she, “if this gentleman is 
accustomed to dining only with great people, it is 
you who should stay away from the table ; for you 
are not of noble birth, while we are Velascos.” 

“My daughter,” said her mother, “you are im- 
pertinent, and for this you shall be punished. You 
shall have a supper of porridge and milk, and then 
you must go to bed. Your brother may come to the 
table. Put on your best doublet, my boy; the one 
which has the fine lace at the neck and in the 
sleeves. And now leave the room, both of you.” 

Petronilla sobbed bitterly as they sat on the stairs 
together. “I knew you would catch a scolding,” 
said her brother; “why did you not let me man- 
age it?” 

“You were managing it and you were doing it 
all wrong,” she retorted. 

“Well, you might have known that our mother 
would punish you for speaking to Aunt Catalina in 
that fashion; she has no pity for us when we are 
impertinent. I don’t see anything for you to do 
but to take your porridge and milk and go to bed.” 

“I won’t eat such a supper! I hate porridge and 
I hate milk, and I wish that old man had come to 
marry Aunt Catalina and to take her to the moon.” 

“She would snulf out the moon if he should take 
her there, she is so stingy about lights,” observed 
Pedro. 

His sister laughed a little at this conceit, but 
soon returned to the subject of her grievance. 

24 


A VISITOR TO THE CASTLE 


“To think of all of you sitting around the table, 
and all the lights going, and perhaps stories being 
told, and I all alone in my room in the dark!” 

“Tell me, Nilla,” said her brother, “would it 
make you any happier if I should eat porridge and 
milk and go to my bed when you go to yours?” 

The little girl saw that her brother was willing 
to make a sacrifice for her sake should she demand 
it, and, though the old adage declares that misery 
loves company, she was not selfish enough to per- 
mit him to do as he suggested. “Oh, no, I should 
be all the more wretched if you did that,” she re- 
plied. ^ 

“I know what I can do,” said Pedro, seized with 
a brilliant thought. “I will manage some way to 
bring up to you a piece of everything we have. 
Jules will help me, I know. But you will be 
obliged to wait for some time, for I expect it will 
be quite late when we are through.” 

“I dare say I can wait, though it will be difB- 
cult.” 

“But Aunt Catalina passes this way to go to her 
own room, — she will see the light under the door,” 
said Pedro thoughtfully. 

“Then I will eat without a light. I can find my 
mouth on the darkest night. But, brother, be sure 
to give heed to all that is said in order to tell me 
about it. I am so anxious to know what brings this 
stranger to our house.” 

“I will tell you everything.” 

25 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

“Then I will go to my room, and, Pedro, if I 
should be asleep when you come up, you must 
waken me, even if you should be obliged to throw 
a cup of water in my face.” And her brother 
agreed to this violent method should it be neces- 
sary. 

When alone in her own little room Petronilla’s 
mind continued to dwell upon her troubles. She 
wondered if there existed a more unfortunate and 
more abused person than herself. Senora Velasco 
was not her own mother, she was sure of it, for no 
mother could treat her child with so much cruelty. 
Pedro, of course, was her own child; her petted 
child, while Petronilla was an orphan picked up 
somewhere in the valley, and, consequently, mis- 
used. That she and Pedro could have different 
mothers, and at the same time be twins, was a weak 
link in her chain of reasoning, which she scornfully 
ignored; for when we are bubbling over with self- 
pity, and are determined to be thoroughly misera- 
ble, we are anxious to enjoy that pleasing pastime 
to its fullest extent. 

As she was thus gloomily reflecting upon her 
woes Petronilla heard something come “chug!” 
against the window. She had figured that by this 
time the fowls must be served, and perhaps this 
was a signal from Jules to let down a string and 
draw up a portion for herself, as he once had done 
when Aunt Catalina had locked her up in disgrace. 
Yes, it must be dear old Jules, who, realizing how 

26 


A VISITOR TO THE CASTLE 

hungry she was, had adopted this method to let her 
have her supper at the same time the others were 
enjoying theirs. 

She went to the window and in the moonlight 
saw something on the ledge outside. It was not a 
piece of a bird which she thought at the first glance 
that Jules might have been able to convey to her; 
it was a whole bird, — a live one with feathers on. 
It was a young owl that must have been “out for a 
lark” and lost his way. 

Petronilla opened the casement cautiously — 
it opened like a door and not as windows open 
nowadays, and, seizing young Mr. Owl, she 
brought him in and placed him on a chair by 
the lamp. He was dark and fluffy, his most 
prominent feature being a pair of great yellow 
goggle-eyes. Although she had seen owls in the 
distance and had heard them screech, this was the 
first one with which Petronilla had ever been on 
terms of intimacy. When she became too familiar 
with him he snapped at her, his beak making a 
sound like the click of castanets. When she moved 
about the room he seemed consumed with curiosity 
to know what she was doing, and he turned his head 
around so far that to her it was a matter of wonder 
he did not break his neck. She thought it a pity 
that poultry did not turn their heads in this way, 
for in that case Jules would not be obliged to wring 
their necks — which must be a disagreeable thing 
to do ; he could simply tie them down and then run 
27 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

round and round until their heads would drop ofif 
and they would fall, victims of their own violent 
curiosity. 

The bird took Petronilla’s mind from herself 
and restored her to good humor. This is not so ter- 
rible a world after all, when all is said and done, 
and it would be fun to eat supper by stealth. So 
she tied her queer visitor to the leg of her chair, in 
order that he might not wander about at his own 
pleasure, and as her lamp was becoming dim for 
lack of oil she turned it out and threw herself on 
the bed, not to sleep, but to wait for Pedro; and in 
less than five minutes she was in the land of 
dreams. 


28 


CHAPTER III 


THE OBJECT OF THE VISIT 

Petronilla was wakened by a flash of light across 
her eyes, which caused her suddenly to sit up 
in bed. There stood her brother holding a light; 
and with him was Jules holding a tray which he 
placed in her lap. 

“Hist!” he whispered; “there are those who 
have the eyes of a lynx and the cunning of a fox, 
and a lady of our acquaintance is not yet gone to 
her room.” Pedro carelessly had left the door open 
and Aunt Catalina’s heels could be heard clicking 
on the stone floor of the hall. In less time than it 
takes to tell it Jules had closed the door noiselessly, 
and, snatching up a fur rug, had thrown it across 
the crack beneath. 

“And now,” he said triumphantly, “we can talk 
as much as we like, for these walls are too thick to 
allow the sound of our voices to get beyond them. 
And do not allow your conscience to trouble you 
regarding your mother. She saw us as we were 
bringing the tray and she turned away her eyes and 
said nothing.” 

Petronilla enjoyed the meal, which was a rich 
one for a small girl at that hour of the night, but 

29 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


she never had been ill in her life and had no fear 
of indigestion. 

Old Jules, who seemed to be very happy and 
somewhat excited, kept up a running stream of 
talk. “Ah, it has been a great evening, a grand 
occasion!” he cried, rubbing his hands together 
joyously. “Olympie and I waited at table just as 
if there had been a score of servants in the kitchen. 
‘Allow me, Senora, to compliment you upon your 
cook,’ said Monsieur de Beaurepas, not knowing 
that it was the cook who was at that very moment 
pouring his wine. But I know how to be grave 
and dignified, I should hope; and not the flicker 
of an eyelash betrayed me, though I was ready to 
burst with laughter. And monsieur goes on : ‘I am 
told that the young Dauphiness of France, Cath- 
erine de’ Medici, has brought new notions and new 
dishes from her own country; perhaps your chef is 
from Paris and has learned some of them.’ 

“ ‘My cook is a Frenchman,’ said the senora, 
with a twinkle in her eyes, ‘but he came to Bearn 
before the death of Louis the Twelfth. Conse- 
quently he knows nothing of France under the 
present reign.’ 

“ ‘Then it can be nothing but inspiration, pure 
inspiration,’ said monsieur, helping himself to 
some more of the pastry. Pretty soon he asked, 
‘Pray, Senora, what do you call these brown, crisp 
and delicious little cakes?’ 

“ The senora looked helpless at this question, for 
30 


THE OBJECT OF THE VISIT 

she did not know, and I said very low, and very 
respectfully, Tf Monsieur will permit, I can give 
him the information he desires.’ Then he lifted 
his goblet against the light with the air of one who 
appreciates good wine and said, ‘Go on, my good 
man.’ 

“ ‘The cakes which are so fortunate as to please 
Monsieur are called feuillantines^^ said I. ‘The 
cook learned to make them in France in his youth, 
but never had made them since until inspired to do 
so by the presence of Monsieur in the chateau.’ 

“Never in my life have I made so neat a speech, 
and Monsieur de Beaurepas was pleased, for he 
said, ‘When I take my leave, I shall not forget a 
douceur for the cook and also one for yourself.’ ” 

“But you can not take both, you know, Jules,” 
said Pedro, who had opinions of his own about 
what was upright and strictly honorable. “There 
is only one of you, you see.” 

“You talk like a baby!” cried the old man. “Did 
I not make two of myself this night? Did I not 
produce a most delightful repast as cook, and did I 
not serve it neatly and expertly as waiter? Indeed, 
I think the douceur should be quadrupled!” 

“But you have not told me why Monsieur de 
Beaurepas is here,” said Petronilla, putting a stop 
to the argument. “I suppose he came for some 
other purpose than to pay compliments to Jules?” 

“I was waiting for you to ask that question,” said 
her brother, “and I was going to make you guess. 

31 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


Now tell me, who do you think is coming to live 
with us for a whole year, perhaps more?” 

“Somebody to teach us?” she asked, her counte- 
nance falling. 

“Certainly not; we have that and too much of it 
from Brother Francois.” 

“Monsieur de Beaurepas?” 

“No, indeed; I should not wonder if a good 
many people will die, because he has left them to 
come here. But it is some one from the court.” 

“Not the Queen of Navarre!” cried his sister, in 
her excitement dropping one of the celebrated 
feuillantines. 

“Now that is foolish ; but I could not expect you 
to guess, for it is some one of whom you never 
have heard. It is the young Marquis de Tal- 
langes.” 

“But why is he coming here?” 

“For his health.” 

“But why must he do that, when Monsieur de 
Beaurepas can cure everything?” asked Petronilla 
logically. 

“He can cure everything and that is why he pro- 
poses to cure the young marquis, which he does by 
sending him here,” interrupted Jules. “You must 
know that a great physician does not administer 
medicines with his own hands. He says to his pa- 
tients, Take this, or that,’ or ‘Go there, or there,’ 
and they obey him. As what the Marquis de Tal- 
langes most needs is large doses of fresh air, pure 
32 


THE OBJECT OF THE VISIT 

and sweet from the mountains, he is ordered to 
come here to get it.” 

‘Tt will not be pleasant for us to have a sick gen- 
tleman in the house; we shall have to be very 
quiet,” grumbled Petronilla. 

‘‘But he is such a very young gentleman,” said 
Jules. “He is but a year older than yourselves. 
You see, it is this way: the young marquis is the 
second heir who has been born to his house. His 
older brother was pampered and dosed until he 
died. When this one was born he was sent away to 
be reared by a lady in Nerac, who had been a gov- 
erness in the family and who, being quite old, 
thought that the main object in life was to keep 
very warm. She kept him in a room where there 
always was a fire; she kept all the doors and win- 
dows closed, all the cracks stopped and the walls 
hung with arras to shut out every breath of air. 
And the baby was muffled and wrapped from the 
tips of his toes to the top of his head. The boy lived 
with her until his parents died, then his grand- 
mother, the old Marquise de Tallanges, took him 
away and sent for the good Monsieur de Beaure- 
pas. ‘What shall be done with him. Doctor?’ she 
asks. ‘Send him to the mountains and let him stay 
out of doors as much as possible for a year,’ says 
the doctor. 

“Then Monsieur de Beaurepas wrote to Brother 
Francois and asked if he knew of any one here- 
abouts who would receive the young marquis, and 

33 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

Brother Francois advised him to come and consult 
Senora Velasco, who has plenty of room in her 
chateau and whose own children are pictures of 
health. He agreed to come, and I fancy he had a 
pretty large fee for it, too, and Brother Frangois 
met him on the way and brought him here. It 
would appear that the House of Tallanges is very 
rich and that they will pay royally for all they re- 
ceive. But, although she is glad to lay by a little 
fortune for her children, it was the thought of 
being the means of curing a sickly child that 
moved the heart of the senora. 

‘^The marquis is to have the suite of rooms 
facing the east for himself and his servant and his 
grandmother, when she cares to visit him !” 

“Those rooms!” cried Petronilla. “Why, they 
are almost bare!” 

“All that will be remedied,” replied old Jules, 
“for furniture and hangings will be sent within a 
very short time. And this arrangement will bring 
better times to this house and will put many a 
douceur into the pocket of old Jules.” 

“I suppose you will try to make the marquis be- 
lieve there are two of you in order to double your 
money,” remarked Pedro with a grin. 

“Of course not,” returned the old man in an in- 
jured tone. “You will harp for ever on what I said 
to-night. But if there was any harm in it, may 
Satan come with the wings of a bat and fly away 
with me!” 


34 


THE OBJECT OF THE VISIT 

He took a backward step in his earnestness; 
there was a flutter of wings and, turning, Jules be- 
held, looking out at him from the shadows on the 
floor, two great, staring eyes which seemed to him 
to blaze like live coals. Believing that Satan had 
taken him at his word and had lost no time in ac- 
cepting his invitation, Jules uttered a shriek of 
fear, called on his favorite saints to protect him, 
and jumped clear over the chair to which was tied 
the owl which had so frightened him. 

‘‘What in the world is the matter, Jules?” asked 
Pedro. “Has something bitten you?” 

Petronilla, who was laughing so hard as to be in 
danger of choking, explained the arrival of her 
feathered visitor, which her brother examined with 
great interest. 

His fright had thrown Jules into a bad humor. 
“There never is any telling what you will do next,” 
he grumbled. “I should not be surprised at any 
time to find your room filled with wild beasts from 
the mountains. Do you not know that to have a bird 
fly into your room is very unlucky? It means a 
death under the roof, that is what it means,” — 
and he crossed himself. 

“That is what you said a long time ago when a 
swallow flew through the kitchen,” said Petro- 
nilla, “and no one has died. Besides, the owl did 
not come in of his own accord ; he was on the ledge 
and I brought him in.” 

“Well, let him out again. We will not court bad 

35 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

luck when such good times are upon us.” So say- 
ing he untied the cord, carried the bird to the win- 
dow and let him go out into the night. And per- 
haps Mr. Owl entertained his mother in her aery 
home with an account of the strange beings he had 
met down yonder in the old castle, and of one 
whose screech could rival anything she could do 
in that line. 

Their visitor left the castle at an early hour on 
the following morning. Jules accompanied him to 
the gate, outside of which stood Tomas, holding 
the doctor’s horse. 

Monsieur de Beaurepas took two shining pieces 
of silver from his pocket and dropped them into 
Jules’ willing palm. “One is for yourself, my good 
man,” he said, “and the other is for that very excel- 
lent cook.” 

“A thousand thanks. Monsieur,” returned Jules 
with great gravity. “I shall spend mine for a pair 
of Sunday hose. The cook, being of a saving turn 
of mind, will put his by for a rainy day.” He un- 
barred the gate and the visitor passed through. 
Carefully closing it again, the old cook, as he 
walked toward the house, winked at a swallow that 
was flying overhead. 


36 



Believing that Satan had taken him at his word, Jules uttered a shriek 


ot fear 


Fdge 









CHAPTER IV, 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE LITTLE MARQUIS 

After the visit of Monsieur de Beaurepas noth- 
ing was talked of in the old castle but the little 
marquis and the changes which his coming would 
make in the household. 

“He will not want to play with you two, that is 
certain,’’ said Aunt Catalina. “He is accustomed to 
being in the company of gentle-mannered children, 
little lords and ladies in fact, who do not slip out of 
the house and try to ride their horses down the very 
cliffs, acting altogether like the savages discov- 
ered by the Admiral Columbus across the seas. 
The young marquis will be greatly shocked at your 
manners.” 

“Monsieur de Beaurepas said he is to eat a sup- 
per of porridge and milk as we do, and that he is 
to stay out of doors as much as possible,” said 
Pedro; “so while he is here he will not be so very 
different from us.” 

“He will know how to behave himself wherever 
he is,” retorted his aunt. “Whether he is riding his 
horse or eating his frugal supper he will ever be a 
little gentleman, and you must try to be like him 
and to copy as nearly as you can his gracious ways. 

37 


iTHE QUEEN’S PAGE 

As he is to be here at least a year, you may in that 
time learn something of deportment.” 

“I wonder what he will look like,” mused Pet- 
ronilla. “I suppose he will resemble an angel.” 

“I have not a doubt of it,” responded Aunt Cata- 
lina. 

Before many days pack-mules arrived, bearing 
furnishings for the east rooms, and the old beds 
with their moth-eaten hangings were transformed 
into princely couches with curtains of silk, while 
many a luxury was added, the like of which the 
children never had seen. 

Finally the great day came when the new mem- 
ber of the household, with his grandmother and 
their servants, was expected to arrive. Two more 
servants had temporarily been added to the castle 
corps, and every one was agitated, from Senora 
Velasco down to the new scullery maid. The 
kitchen was redolent of all kinds of spices, and old 
Jules expected the supper to be one of the triumphs 
of his life. 

The hours crept on. Senora Velasco had donned 
her one handsome gown, the children wore the cos- 
tumes permitted only on fete-days, while Aunt Cat- 
alina, whose very cap seemed to bristle with ex- 
pectancy, was so unusually well-dressed as to in- 
spire awe. But alas! modes of transportation were 
different in those days from what they are now. At 
the present time we say to a friend, “You may ex- 
pect me on the five-fifteen train,” and the chances 
38 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE MARQUIS 


are nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand 
that steam or electricity will pull us into the station 
at the time specified. Or, if we are detained at 
home, there are telegraph and telephone facil- 
ities which may, in almost the twinkling of 
an eye, explain the cause of our non-appearance. 
But in the days when the Marguerite of Marguer- 
ites was Queen of Navarre, there was no telling 
when anybody would arrive at any place. The 
roads were rough, and not only had railways never 
been heard of, but even carriages were not in use; 
when going by land people traveled on horseback 
or in litters. To make it all the more uncertain as 
to whether the traveler would reach his des- 
tination, there was danger of conflicts along the 
way. The country was infested with robbers who 
were ready to kidnap, rob or murder those travel- 
ers supposed to have money and jewels. 

Night came on; the castle clock clanged the 
hour of seven. ‘Tf they are not here within half an 
hour the supper will be ruined,’’ declared Jules. 
But the clock ticked out the minutes and struck 
eight — nine. The old cook wrung his hands in 
despair and the family went to the table, but so 
great had been the nervous strain that none did jus- 
tice to the fare save Brother Francois, who had 
come to the castle to give the support of his pres- 
ence to the two ladies of the house upon this mo- 
mentous occasion. 

The children went to bed with thQ conviction 


39 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

that the day to which they had looked forward 
with such joyful anticipations had been a dismal 
failure. They were sure the expected guests would 
arrive in the night and that they would be de- 
nied the delightful experience of watching their 
coming. 

The next morning they were pleased to learn 
that the marquis and his grandmother had not yet 
appeared; and then followed a repetition of the 
previous day, of wearing their best clothes, watch- 
ing every moment from the windows, and being 
keyed up to the wildest pitch of expectancy. The 
old clock ticked off the minutes and clanged the 
hours just the same, and the sun sank out of sight 
after tinting the mountain-tops ; night came on and 
the owls hooted, while Jules tore his hair and 
vowed that this state of affairs was enough to drive 
a man out of his wits. Here he was preparing meal 
after meal for the nobility, and no nobility to eat 
his delicacies ; nobody even appreciating them but 
a Franciscan friar, who, perhaps, ought to be 
fasting. 

Aunt Catalina was sure the expected party had 
been assassinated by highwaymen, and even 
Brother Frangois began to look uneasy, though his 
anxiety did not affect his appetite. 

The twins had arranged with each other that, as 
soon as the marquis and his suite should be seen in 
the distance, they would contrive to evade the eye 
of their aunt and view the coming of the strangers 

40 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE MARQUIS 

from the limbs of a pear-tree which stood in one 
corner of the grounds. 

Toward sunset of the third day, as the children 
stood by the staircase window, their aunt paused in 
passing to say: “You need look no longer; they 
never will come. I feel it; and when I feel a thing 
it always comes out just that way. Those people 
have been murdered. There never is to be any luck 
for this house. Just as we have prepared for a com- 
fortable little income and have gone to some ex- 
pense to arrange for the Marquis de Tallanges, he 
and everybody connected with him must get them- 
selves killed! Precious little do those lords and 
ladies care for us! Everything going to waste in 
the kitchen and here they are swept out of the 
world as if we were of no consequence whatever!” 

The twins might have asked their aunt why it 
was that the expected visitors should have had no 
consideration for themselves, even if it had been 
their intention to flout the Velasco family by allow- 
ing themselves to be assassinated; but while she 
was speaking their bright eyes had observed in the 
distance a procession at the end of the road that 
came zigzagging up the mountain. Did they men- 
tion this fact to their aunt? Not they! They 
exchanged glances like a flash; then they walked 
down stairs with great deliberation, and, once out- 
side, they ran like a pair of mad things, and with 
the agility of squirrels climbed the pear-tree. This 
performance was not calculated to keep their best 
41 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


clothes in spick and span condition; but who cares 
for clothes in such a thrilling moment? 

They saw two litters carried by horses. At the 
side of the first one rode a man with a woman on 
the pillion behind him. This couple proved to be 
the valet of the marquis and his grandmother’s 
maid. Five horsemen followed the second litter, 
and last of all came a mule loaded with baggage. 
The first litter was curtained with crimson silk; 
the four rods which supported it being gilded and 
surmounted by plumes ; the second, equally ornate, 
was hung with silk of a deep shade of yellow. 

Such a splendid procession coming on a visit 
would agitate most people, and it is no wonder that 
the Velasco twins felt that the ten years of their 
lives had brought nothing which could remotely 
be compared to the sight they now were beholding. 
But the most puzzling and bewildering sight was 
yet to come. The occupants of the litters could not 
be seen, but from between the curtains of the 
second one was thrust a head, the sight of which 
came very nearly causing the twins to drop from 
the pear-tree in amazement. It was such a small 
head, no larger than a man’s closed fist, and it wore 
a red cap with a large swinging tassel. The face 
they could not distinctly see, for the head suddenly 
disappeared behind the curtains, as if its owner had 
been forcibly pulled by a hand from within. 

Petronilla, who was on the limb above that upon 
which her brother was sitting, leaned down and 

42 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE MARQUIS 

whispered: “Oh, do you suppose that was the 
marquis?” 

“Yes, it must have been he. Who else could it 
be?” 

“But what a tiny, withered little thing he is! 
And the glimpse I had of his face showed him to be 
almost black!” 

“I dare say it is because he has been kept in a hot 
room for so long a time,” observed Pedro. “You 
know a fowl on the spit always turns brown after a 
while.” 

“You do not think that the old lady he stayed 
with roasted him, do you?” asked Petronilla con- 
temptuously. “Aunt Catalina says he is of the 
French nobility, and perhaps they all look like 
that.” 

“I am glad that we do not belong to it then,” 
remarked her brother. 

By this time the procession had reached the 
other side of the courtyard and the children 
slipped down from the tree and followed it. The 
mystery of the strange creature in the second litter 
was now solved. A boy climbed out of it, dragging 
by a chain a little animal wearing a red cap and 
coat, which the twins afterward were told was a 
monkey. It was the first one they ever had seen. 
From the same litter was taken a cage containing a 
parrot of gray plumage, and finally there leaped 
out a St. Bernard puppy, which stretched himself 
and jumped about as though delighted to reach the 

43 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

end of a tiresome journey. The young marquis had 
brought a small menagerie to his new home. 

The valet sprang from his horse and lifted 
the maid from her seat, after which the two as- 
sisted the occupant of the first litter to alight. 
This was not a very easy task, for the marquise was 
very stout. Two men held aside the curtains, 
while the maid and the valet lifted her out as if she 
had been a bale of goods. She was attired in a robe 
of crimson velvet, which made her seem even larger 
than she was in reality; and, seen to-day as she 
then appeared, she would remind us of a comfort- 
able parlor-sofa which had determined to walk 
about of its own accord. 

Slim and graceful Senora Velasco and tall and 
gaunt Aunt Catalina welcomed their guests in the 
courtyard. Senora Velasco made a very pretty 
little speech and Aunt Catalina added a postscript 
which she had been conning in her mind for the 
past week, but which, much to her chagrin, her 
tongue, for once disobedient, twirled into unintel- 
ligibility. 

The marquise, though a great lady, was not at 
all haughty, being really very good-natured. Her 
small eyes twinkled with good-humor, and her 
smile played all over her face, where it found a 
spacious playground. Her laugh was a chuckle 
and her voice was deep and sonorous. Later, when 
she emerged from the hands of Felice, her maid, 
she wore a gown of blue and yellow brocade; huge 

44 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE MARQUIS 


rosettes caught her sleeves at the shoulders, and a 
wide fluted collar fastened around her neck by a 
jeweled band stood up stiffly and scraped her ears. 
Pins set with gems glittered in her hair, and her fat 
fingers, and even her thumbs, were covered with 
rings. It was evident that the marquise was fond 
of everything that shimmered and sparkled. 

Although the little marquis was not dark and 
withered as they had supposed him to be when 
they had mistaken the monkey for its master, he 
fell far short of the twins’ ideal of what a noble- 
man should be. In fact, had he been the cobbler’s 
son, or the son of the man who sold water down in 
the village, or any child of ordinary parentage, 
they would have considered him decidedly plain. 
He was an undersized boy, very pale and exceed- 
ingly slender. He did not seem to have grown to 
fit his second teeth, which, large and wide apart, 
appeared as if they had been made for some one 
else and had fallen to his lot by accident. When 
to this description may be added the fact that his 
small eyes were too close together and his hands 
and feet were too large for his body, it easily may 
be seen that this sprig of nobility was not beauti- 
ful, and that there was little prospect of his ever 
becoming particularly pleasing to the beholder. 

Unfortunately, there was as much to be desired 
in his manners as in his personal appearance. Some 
of the hangings in his room happening not to meet 
with his approval, he pulled them down by swing- 
45 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

ing upon them, and threw some ornaments which-* 
did not please his fancy out of the window. In less 
than a half-hour after his arrival he had bruised 
his chin by a fall from the stairs and had tumbled 
out of one of the lower windows, narrowly escap- 
ing a broken neck. 

At the supper-table the little marquis ate vora- 
ciously of anything that tempted him, thdugh his 
grandmother warned him that the doctor had for- 
bidden such indulgence. 

“He shall eat what he likes while I am here,” 
said the marquise comfortably, “for I can not deny 
him anything. But when I go, you, my dear 
Senora Velasco, will see to it that for his supper he 
has nothing but porridge and milk; for such are 
the doctor’s orders.” 

Poor Senora Velasco sighed. She felt that the 
sum paid for her care of this youngster, although 
a generous one, would hardly repay her for the 
trouble that frisky individual was destined to cause 
her. 

The twins had been banished to the background 
and were not presented to the marquise until after 
supper when, seated in a high-backed chair, she 
graciously asked to see the children who, reared in 
that atmosphere, were said to be pictures of health. 
Then hand in hand, and blushing very much, Pe- 
dro and Petronilla stood before her. 

“What beauties! What perfect beauties!” cried 
the old marquise. 


46 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE MARQUIS 


Brother Frangois mildly suggested that mere 
comeliness of feature was of small consequence, 
and added that he was pleased to say that the chil- 
dren had done him some credit as his pupils. They 
could read and write, and, besides their ability to 
speak French and Spanish, they knew a little 
Latin. 

“What, the girl also?” asked the marquise in as- 
tonishment, for at that period girls were not ex- 
pected to know anything but the intricate stitches 
of their embroidery. 

“It is not essential that a girl should be educated 
unless she expects to fill a very exalted position in 
life,” observed Brother Frangois; “but Petronilla 
is anxious to imitate her brother in all things.” 

“What a lovely page this boy would make!” ex- 
claimed the lady, who seemed not to have heard 
the friar’s reply to her question. “He would make 
an ideal page for me. He could write my letters, 
which I frankly state I can not do to my satisfac- 
tion; he could read to me and be useful to me in a 
thousand ways. He really must come to me. He is 
of a noble Spanish family, I am told, and he will 
h^ve a good opportunity to make his fortune at 
court.” 

The heart of Senora Velasco beat high with joy. 
It was the chance for which she had longed for 
Pedro, as in those days it was the custom of noble 
families to obtain for their young sons positions as 
pages to ladies of rank. The page accompanied 

47 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

the lady in her walks, he read and sang to her and 
made himself generally useful. Such a situation 
with a lady at court, where there would be an op- 
portunity for still higher preferment as he grew 
older, was beyond Senora Velasco’s wildest dream 
when planning the future of her boy. 

“In a year I shall return for my grandson,” said 
the marquise decisively, and in the tone of one who 
is accustomed to have her own way; “in a year or 
less time, and then I will, with your permission, 
Senora, take your son away with me. I should 
take him immediately, did I not think it best for 
him to remain here as a companion for my little 
Fabien.” 

At this last remark the thought came to Senora 
Velasco, “What shall I do without his companion- 
•ship for myself?” and she said hesitatingly, “My 
son is too young to go out into the great world 
without his mother. He is not quite eleven years 
of age. If you, Madame, could wait until he is 
older — ” 

“That is nonsense,” said the old lady, interrupt- 
ing her. “Younger boys than he, sons of noble 
houses, have gone forth to seek their fortunes. The 
brave Chevalier Bayard was but twelve years old 
when he left the paternal roof with but ten crown 
pieces in his purse. Tell me, Senora, do you accept 
my proposition?” 

Involuntarily her hostess turned to the friar, for 
she was accustomed to seek advice from Brother 

48 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE MARQUIS 

Frangois, and she anxiously awaited his reply, hop- 
ing that he would counsel delay. 

The friar bowed his head. “I have wished, as 
you well know, Sehora, to dedicate that bright 
young mind to the church ; to this plan you have 
objected; therefore you can not do better for your 
son than to accede to the request of Madame la 
Marquise.” 

It was a decision which, though not approved 
by her heart, was sanctioned by her judgment, and 
Sehora Velasco agreed that upon her return Pedro 
should accompany the marquise to the court of 
Navarre. 

The eyes of the boy sparkled and he could 
scarcely contain himself for joy. But there rang a 
wail through the room, which was as mournful 
as it was startling and unexpected. It was from 
Petronilla, who, regardless of the fact that they 
were entertaining a noble guest, threw herself upon 
the floor in an agony of grief. 

‘‘What in the name of all the saints is the matter 
with the girl?” asked the marquise in amazement. 

“Be quiet, you misguided child!” said Aunt 
Catalina, dragging her niece to her feet, and giv- 
ing her a shake as she did so. 

“Let her alone!” commanded the marquise im- 
periously. “Come here, little one, and tell me what 
is troubling you.” 

After a few moments, during which Petronilla 
was swallowing her sobs and striving to gain com- 
49 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


mand of her voice, she replied : “My brother shall 
not go with you, Madame. Or, if he does, I too 
must go. Do you know what we are? We are* 
twins. We have never been separated a day in our 
lives, and the good God does not want us to be 
apart, for He not only sent us into the world to- 
gether, but He made us just alike.” 

“It is true,” added Pedro soberly, “I can not be 
separated from Nilla. We must live and die to- 
gether, Madame la Marquise, for so we have 
promised each other.” 

The marquise seemed to be very much amused, 
but Brother Francois said: “It is the duty of chil- 
dren to obey their parents without a question. I 
have taught you nothing, if not that.” 

“This scene must be very annoying to our hon- 
ored guest,” said Aunt Catalina. “Leave the room, 
both of you!” 

“Pardon me,” interrupted the marquise sharply, 
and in a tone which said “Keep quiet,” as plainly 
as words could have done, “I want to hear what 
these children have to say. What would you do, 
my little girl, if I should take your brother away 
in spite of you?” 

“I think l should die, Madame,” replied Petro- 
nilla simply. 

“And I, too,” returned her brother with convic- 
tion. “When you offered to take me into your 
service, Madame la Marquise, I was glad. I was 
sorry to leave my mother, but a man can not always 
50 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE MARQUIS 


be with his mother. But I did not think that Nilla 
would remain here.” 

“Here is a fine state of affairs!” cried the mar- 
quise. “I do not want to break two young hearts; 
I am not a cruel woman.” 

“Pay no attention whatever to what those chil- 
dren say, Madame la Marquise,” said Aunt Cat- 
alina, who could scarcely contain herself with 
anxiety lest this splendid opportunity offered Pe- 
dro should be withdrawn. 

“I have a superstition about separating twins,” 
continued the marquise, paying no more attention 
to Aunt Catalina than if a fly had buzzed a pro- 
test. “I have made up my mind to take that boy to 
court, and when my mind is made up, it never 
changes. But what am I to do about this girl? 
Child,” she continued, with a fat laugh, “why were 
you not born a boy?” 

“I wish I had been, Madame,” returned Petro- 
nilla, who was not at all afraid of this good-hu- 
mored old lady; “girls are of no use, anyway.” 

“Do not say that, do not say that,” protested the 
marquise. “Girls grow into women, and women 
have done a great deal of good in the world. 
Think of the noble Queen Isabella, of Marguerite 
of Austria, and of our own splendid Queen Mar- 
guerite of Navarre, who did so much for France, 
and was instrumental in releasing her brother, 
Francis the First, from his Spanish prison. And 
many women who have not themselves done deeds 
SI 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

of heroism have inspired men to noble acts, so let 
us not speak of them as if they were of no account. 
But, in the present case, I am sorry you are not a 
boy, for then I should have two pages exactly 
alike. But stay, a new idea has come to me. 
Yes, it will be fine if I can arrange it. You shall 
come with your brother, little one, that is certain. 
Your future, also, shall be provided for.” 

Petroirilla clasped her hands together raptur- 
ously. To go to court, to see the queen, and all 
the great world beyond the castle, seemed too good 
to be true. ^‘But, oh, what will our mother do with- 
out either of us?” she cried impulsively. 

‘‘Do not think of me, my Nilla,” murmured 
Senora Velasco. “It is but a poor mother who is 
not willing to sacrifice herself for her children.” 

“And it is not as if they were leaving this world, 
my dear Madame,” said the marquise, “for you 
certainly will see them again. Your boy will have 
a fine career, I am sure, and who knows what may 
be in store for your girl? At the court of the pres- 
ent king of France I once knew a little English 
girl. Her name was Anne Boleyn, and she was but 
thirteen years of age when she accompanied the 
French court to the famous meeting on the Field 
of the Cloth of Gold. She was not nearly so pretty 
as your daughter, yet the polish of court life won 
for her the heart of a king.” 

As Anne Boleyn had been beheaded at the com- 
mand of this same king a few years before, this was 
52 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE MARQUIS 

a rather unfortunate illustration, which the mar- 
quise seemed to realize as soon as she had made it; 
for she hastened to add, turning to Petronilla: 
‘‘And now you are happy, are you not, my dear?” 

“Yes, Madame la Marquise,” replied Petro- 
nilla; “only I shall be very sorry to leave our 
mother.” 

“Is there no other member of the family from 
whom you will regret to part, Petronilla?” asked 
Brother Frangois somewhat sternly. 

“Oh, yes,” cried the little girl, “I shall feel very 
bad at parting with you. Brother Frangois, and 
with the servants and Tonito.” 

“By Tonito, I suppose you refer to your aunt?” 
inquired the marquise, a little stiffly, for it was evi- 
dent that she was not an ardent admirer of Aunt 
Catalina. 

“Oh, no, Madame la Marquise,” returned 
Petronilla; “Tonito is not our aunt, Tonito is our 
donkey.” 

The marquise concealed a smile with her hand, 
while Aunt Catalina said icily: “It is a peculiar- 
ity of children, Madame la Marquise, that they 
fail to recognize their best friends and that they 
never appreciate those who do the most for them.” 

“While that is true in a measure,” replied the 
marquise, “children are fond of those who make 
them happy; and the donkey of which the child 
speaks is no doubt good-natured and kind to her.” 

In the meantime, Pedro, who was standing be- 

53 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

hind his mother’s chair, was the breathless witness 
of a most interesting scene at the other end of the ' 
room. The little marquis, throughout the conver- « 
sation above related, had been sitting on the edge ] 
of his chair and scraping the floor with his heel, ; 
making a creaking sound on the leather carpet | 
very disagreeable to the ear, — a fact which did not * 
cause him to desist, but induced him to scrape all i 
the harder; for he loved noise and racket of all j 
kinds, when he was the motive power back of it. \ 
Had Pedro acted in this manner, his mother sweet- J 
ly, but firmly, would have reproved him, and his \ 
aunt would have shaken him or boxed his ears. 
But no one remonstrated with the marquis. I 

Through the door behind the marquis now came ^ 
the small, grotesque figure of Maroc, the monkey, ^ 
in his red coat and his red cap. He ran to his mas- i 
ter’s chair where, unnoticed, he leaped into the seat ■ 
behind him. Monkeys are proverbial imitators, 
and this small simian was no exception to the rule. 
Maroc was at this moment doing a good deal of 
hard thinking, and his thoughts must have been 
pleasant ones ; for he smiled, showing teeth which 
were by no means handsome. He had seen his * 
master play a joke on Guillot, the valet, that morn- j 
ing, and he was aching to try it on his own account. 

Stealthily stretching out a queer little paw, he } 
slipped a pin from his master’s fluted collar. At ; 
that period wire pins were not used on the Con- t 
tinent, but in their place were little skewers of i 

54 :3 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE MARQUIS 

wood like very fine splinters ; they were very sharp 
and well adapted to fastening muslin and laces. 
Quick as a flash the monkey stuck the pin into his 
master’s arm. 

The marquis uttered a cry of pain which made 
everybody, even his rotund grandmother, jump in 
affright. 

“What is it, my angel?” cried the old lady, try- 
ing to take him in her arms. But her grandson 
pushed her away, while the monkey chattered and 
seemed to be trying to explain. Perhaps he was 
saying in his own language, “I saw him do it to 
poor Guillot and I want him to know for himself 
how it feels.” He had not long to chatter, how- 
ever, for his master turned on him in a fury, and 
Maroc went out of the room so hurriedly that there 
was nothing to be seen but a swift flash of red. 

“I’ll kill him, that is what I will do!” cried the 
boy. “He has pierced my arm with that pin.” 

“I am sorry, my darling,” said his grandmother 
soothingly, “but he does not know any better, poor 
Maroc!” 

“He does, too! He knows a great deal more than 
you do,” snapped her grandson. And he flung him- 
self from the room. 

“Oh, dear,” sighed the marquise, as she sank 
into her chair again. “You can not imagine, my 
dear Senora, what a trial it is to travel with a 
monkey, a parrot and a puppy. Fabien would 
bring them and I could not object, for he will want 
55 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

them to amuse him while he is here. But they have 
annoyed me greatly. Three nights ago, when we 
were staying in the chateau of my dear friend, 
the Countess de Fleury, the parrot, released from 
his cage by my grandson, bit all the jeweled but- 
tons from the gown my maid had laid out for 
me to wear that evening; he cut those buttons off 
as nicely as you could do it with a knife, and as 
they were scattered about over the floor, it was 
some trouble to find them, and it took Felice so 
long to sew them on — for the puppy had chewed 
up and spoiled all our thread — that I was late for 
the banquet given in my honor. I gave orders to 
Felice to whip both the parrot and the puppy, 
which so angered Fabien that he hid her shoes and 
all of mine, nor would he produce them until yes- 
terday at noontime — which was the cause of our 
late arrival — for you know one can not travel with- 
out shoes. I should have scolded my grandson 
roundly, but the dear boy is so sensitive that I hes- 
itated; besides, I feared he would do something 
still worse, for he possesses a bright, active mind, 
and is very quick at planning such things. But he 
is a dear little fellow after all, and I am quite sure 
that you will love him.” 

Her five silent listeners were united in one opin- 
ion, which was doubt of their being able to love 
Fabien, Marquis de Tallanges. 


56 


CHAPTER V, 


AUNT CATALINA DISCIPLINES THE LITTLE MARQUIS 

The Marquise de Tallanges remained three days 
at the castle to rest from her journey. 

“I shall not come again until I return to take my 
grandson away,” she said, ‘‘for the journey is too 
fatiguing to be taken often by a woman of my age. 
But when I do return, Senora Velasco, I shall take 
with me not only my grandson, but your adorable 
twins.” 

“They will be ready to go with you, Madame la 
Marquise,” replied her hostess, in a low but steady 
voice. 

The affable old lady tipped all the servants gen- 
erously, and Jules was not obliged to continue the 
little deception that there were both a waiter and a 
cook, for their guest gave him enough for two, 
handing him a shining gold piece, the sight of 
which made the old man’s eyes sparkle as they had 
not done for two decades. She repeated her in- 
structions regarding Fabien. He was to be taught 
with the twins by Brother Frangois; he was to stay 
out of doors as much as possible when the weather 
was fair; he was to have a supper of porridge 
and milk, and to retire very early. Then she bade 

57 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

a'dieu to every one, embraced her grandson, and 
kissed him on both cheeks a dozen times — em- 
braces to which he violently objected — then she 
took her departure with her maid and her five 
horsemen. 

Guillot, Fabien’s valet, looked mournful as the 
procession started down the mountain ; he was sure 
he would be very dull in this old castle, which was 
so great a contrast to his customary surroundings, 
for, although he had not been in the midst of the 
gaiety of the court, he was on the fringe of it, so 
to speak, and enjoyed hearing of it. 

“It must have made you very sad to part with 
your grandmother,” said Petronilla, as the mar- 
quise and her servants at last disappeared in the 
distance. 

“It did not in the least,” was the reply. “On the 
contrary, I rejoice that she has gone away; I am 
going to be my own master now, and I shall do as 
I please. I am sick and tired of being managed by 
old women. She always kisses me so much, and I 
hate to be kissed. I want to tell you right here and 
now, Petronilla, that I shall hate you if you kiss 
me. Do not try it, for I will not have it.” 

“Kiss you, indeed!” replied the little girl indig- 
nantly. “Do not let the fear of such a thing dis- 
turb you for a moment; When I feel like kissing 
a boy, I can kiss my own brother, who is as hand- 
some as the morning.” 

“Then you must think yourself handsome,” he 
58 


CATALINA DISCIPLINES MARQUIS 

said sneeringly, “for you and he are as much alike 
as two white beans.” 

“I think my brother is beautiful,” she returned 
with dignity. “If you tell me that I am like him, 
I can only thank you for the compliment.” 

The first day of her guardianship of the young 
nobleman was considered by Senora Velasco to be 
most promising. He had been told to stay out of 
doors, and, since to obey this command was to fol- 
low the bent of his own inclinations, no trouble re- 
sulted from it. But at supper-time there was a 
scene of bold and determined rebellion. When of- 
fered porridge and milk, instead of the appetizing 
and tempting dishes partaken of in the company of 
his grandmother, the marquis vowed in a loud 
voice that he would not touch it, demanding meats, 
pastry, cakes and a half-dozen viands, which were 
not forthcoming. His gentle guardian reasoned, 
coaxed, implored ; it was like a dove endeavoring 
to influence a particularly fierce young hawk to 
change its manner of flight and way of living. 

'^‘Let me try it!” said Aunt Catalina, who consid- 
ered herself an adept in the management of chil- 
dren. She was inclined to truckle to this youth. 
Not only his rank, but his gold, his castles and 
lands united to form a pleasing vision for her to 
contemplate, — a vision which made a halo about 
the rough hair of the small marquis. She would be 
his friend, he would adore her. As he grew older 
he would talk of “that dear Sehorita Catalina Es- 

59 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

pinos,” who had been kind to a lonely little boy; 
and perhaps he would send her presents, and even 
settle a small income upon her with the consent of 
his doting grandmother. 

“See, Monsieur le Marquis,” she said, in a 
wheedling tone, “Jules has brought the milk in a 
lovely silver jug, and the dish in which the por- 
ridge is served was once — ” 

“Oh, what do I care about the old jug and the 
dish!” interrupted the boy rudely. “It makes no 
difference to me if they are set with a million jew- 
els. I can not eat silverware. And I won’t have 
the stuff that is in them, and I will have something 
that I want. Bring me one of those pies full of lit- 
tle birds, such as we had last night for supper.” 

“But think of your precious health!” cooed Aunt 
Catalina. “A simple supper will make you grow 
into a strong, handsome man. Do eat it, my dar- 
ling.” 

“Do not call me your darling, for I am not,” he 
retorted tartly. 

“Well, at any rate, eat your supper like a good 
boy. See, I will pour the rich, yellow milk for you 
myself — ” 

At this point something dreadful happened. 
Fabien took a large spoonful of the food, but he 
did not put it into his mouth; he threw it at Aunt 
Catalina, and the dish after it. 

This was the last straw. It mattered not to her 
at this moment that he was Fabien Alexandre 

6o 


CATALINA DISCIPLINES MARQUIS 


Pierre Auguste, Marquis de Tallanges, and owner 
of as many estates as he had names ; he was a de- 
testable small boy who had ruined, for the time at 
least, her gown and cap. She no longer conde- 
scended to coax him; she took him by one of his 
huge ears and led him from the room. He made a 
great many furious remarks, but it was of no use; 
she had full possession of his ear and he was 
obliged to follow his ear. Thus conducted to his 
room he was thrust in, the door was locked on the 
outside and the key was dropped to the bottom of 
Aunt Catalina’s deep pocket. 

“You shall not have one bite of supper this 
night!” cried Aunt Catalina, with her lips at the 
keyhole. 

“I will, tool I am hungry and you shall let me 
out!” he wailed from the other side. 

“A little hunger will do you good, my young 
friend,” remarked the old lady, as with a grim 
smile she descended the stairs. 

“Was that one of the pretty little ways you 
wanted us to copy. Aunt Catalina?” asked Petro- 
nilla demurely, though her eyes danced with mis- 
chief. 

“Be careful,” returned the old lady sourly, “or 
you, too, will go supperless to bed.” 

“But you are going to send him something to 
eat, are you not. Aunt?” asked Pedro. 

“Not one crumb before to-morrow morning!” 
cried she, closing her lips so tightly and so firmly 

6i 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

that only a faint line betrayed the fact that she pos- 
sessed a mouth. 

^‘But he is paying for his board, and if he gets 
nothing to eat he is being swindled,” objected her 
nephew, in whose mind his mother had taken 
great pains to inculcate correct ideas of justice. 

“It would not matter to me if he were paying a 
thousand crowns a minute,” snapped Aunt Cata- 
lina; “he has chosen to act like a young outlaw, 
and he is entitled to no more respect than a con- 
trabandista of the mountains. He shall be made to 
suffer the consequences of his outrageous con- 
duct!” — and she marched from the room. 

“But this will never do,” said Pedro to his sis- 
ter. “It is not only wrong, it is impolite to starve 
anybody but your own family.” 

The two went to Fabien’s door. “Are you hun- 
gry?” asked Pedro through the keyhole. 

“It is not your affair whether I am hungry or 
not,” came the snarling reply. 

“Then I crave your pardon for meddling with 
your affairs,” said Pedro ; and the twins went down 
stairs again, after exchanging a glance of indigna- 
tion. 

“I know he is disagreeable,” remarked Pedro an 
hour later, “but I do not like to think that he is 
hungry.” 

“Nor I,” said his sister; “let us speak to our 
mother about it.” 

Pedro shook his head. “It would be of no use; 

62 



Fabien Alexandre Pierre Auguste, Marquis de Tallanges, was obliged 
to follow his ear P^ge 6l 




CATALINA DISCIPLINES MARQUIS 

she never countermands Aunt Catalina’s orders.” 
And again they returned to the prison chamber. 

“We have come to ask you if you are not ready 
for your supper,” called Pedro. 

“Yes, I am, and you should know it without ask- 
ing. Send me a ragout, one of those pies with little 
birds in it, and some of those cakes Jules makes — 
about a hundred, I think, and — ” 

“We can not send you anything but what your 
grandmother said you must have,” interrupted 
Petronilla; “Jules and Olympie would not give it 
to us. Take off those cords that loop the hangings 
of your bed, tie them together and let down one end 
and we will tie your supper to it, and you can draW 
it up.” 

“The same kind of a supper that old dried prune 
wanted me to take?” asked the boy. 

“You must not speak in that way of our aunt,” 
returned Petronilla coldly. “She is not very kind 
to us, and we are not at all fond of her, but we 
never have called her a dried prune. If you want 
your porridge and milk you shall have it; if not, 
we will go down stairs and trouble you no more.” 

There was a short silence, then the prisoner said 
ungraciously: “I will throw out the end of the 
cord.” 

The twins placed a generous quantity of the de- 
spised food in a basket and tied it with great care 
to the end of the cord dropped from the window 
by the marquis, and when the basket was lowered 
63 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

the dish was in the same condition as was the plat- 
ter belonging to that amiable couple, Mr. Jack 
Sprat and his wife. 

In the meantime, Aunt Catalina’s anger had 
cooled somewhat. Perhaps, after all, she had been 
too severe upon the heir of the noble House of Tal- 
langes. She had pictured to herself the marquise 
on her return thanking her with tears in her eyes 
for the round, rosy cheeks and the improved ap- 
pearance of her grandson, and starving that young 
gentleman was not exactly the way to make him 
gain flesh. So, a few moments after he had re- 
turned the basket to the twins, his captor knocked 
on the door and said: 

“I do not wish you to go hungry to bed, my poor 
boy. I will send your supper to you if you will eat 
what has been ordered for you.” 

^‘Never !” called out Fabien with energy. “I will 
die and be buried before I will touch it! Nor need 
you send up anything else, for I will eat nothing 
that has been cooked in the detestable kitchen of 
this detestable house 1” 

“Really,” thought Aunt Catalina, as she walked 
down the hall, “this is more than I had bargained 
for. What if he should make up his mind to starve 
himself to death? We should be undone. There is 
no denying the fact that to the nobility belongs 
great inflexibility of character.” 

The next day Fabien made no objection to the 
food that was placed before him, and in the eve- 

64 


CATALINA DISCIPLINES MARQUIS 

ning he took his supper of porridge and milk in 
the company of the twins without a word of pro- 
test. 

For a short time the two boys played together 
without any serious clashes, Pedro generously 
yielding upon all occasions, because he thought the 
boy his inferior in strength and because he was in 
a certain sense a guest at the castle. But one day he 
felt obliged to assert himself. 

“That is a fine cap you are wearing, Pedro,” 
said the marquis tauntingly. “Fancy a cap with no 
ornament but an eagle’s feather! See, I have a soft, 
waving plume in mine, and it is fastened with a 
jewel.” 

“Perhaps some day I may wear as fine a one, 
Fabien,” replied Pedfo. 

“You address me by my first name,” said the 
other haughtily, “and you must not do it. You for- 
get who I am. My grandmother says that no one 
should be allowed to forget my station.” 

“Then you shall address me as Don Pedro de 
Velasco, for it is what I should be called in my 
father’s country, as my family, too, is noble.” 

“On both sides?” 

“No, just my father’s family,” returned Pedro 
truthfully. 

“That for your family!” sneered the other boy, 
snapping his fingers in Pedro’s face. “I am French 
on both sides of my house, and the only reason we 
are in this little country is because my mother 
65 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


was lady-in-waiting to Queen Marguerite of Na- 
varre, who also likes to have my grandmother at 
court. Not only was my father of an ancient house, 
but my mother was of noble birth, while your 
mother — ” 

But the sentence was not finished, for the scion 
of a noble race received a blow from Pedro’s 
clenched fist which sent him backward to the 
ground. “I am not going to pound you now,” said 
Pedro, sitting astride his fallen foe, “because I am 
so much stronger than you, and it would not be fair. 
But, remember, you are never to say another word 
against my mother or her family. And if you call 
me by my first name I shall call you by yours. I 
am not your servant, remember, or anything like 
it. I have seen from the first that I should have to 
knock you down sooner or later, and now it is done 
I feel better.” 

Fabien picked himself up like one dazed, for, 
although he often had sorely needed chastisement, 
no one ever had before to-day dared to adminis- 
ter it. 


66 


CHAPTER VI 


GRIS CREATES EXCITEMENT 

Fabien’s parrot, which hailed from Africa, was 
called Gris (gray) on account of his color. He 
was said to be a good talker, but so far during his 
stay at the castle he not only disdained to express 
his opinion upon any subject whatever, but even 
scorned to ask a favor from anybody, seeming, 
when not engaged in eating or sleeping, to be ab- 
sorbed in meditation on some problem which re- 
quired a very nice weighing of pros and cons. 
Jules had made a high wooden perch for him, 
which was placed in the courtyard beside the 
kitchen window. There, all day long, Gris 
thought and dozed, varying the monotony of his 
life by an occasional somersault and* a descent to 
the ground when Jules placed at the foot of his 
perch something which tempted his appetite. In 
vain Jules whistled to him, petted, cajoled and 
threatened him from the kitchen window; not a 
word did Gris reply, though he sometimes hung 
by one foot from his perch and surveyed the old 
man with rolling yellow eyes. 

“I am very sure this bird never has talked,” 
said Jules one day in a tone of disgust. “It is all 
67 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

nonsense about birds’ speaking, anyway, — I never 
heard one say a word.” 

“You haven’t seen and heard everything that is 
going on in the world,” returned Olympic quietly. 

“No, I have not,” retorted her husband, “and 
among other things, I have not heard birds talking 
like Christians, — which I believe to be nothing 
but a trick of the imagination on the part of those 
who claim to have heard them.” 

The days passed on and still Gris said nothing. 
His master, who found a good many other things 
to interest him, paid little attention to the bird, 
which Jules fed by day and put into his cage at 
night. 

One warm afternoon when the old man, enjoying 
a brief respite from work, was dozing in his chair, 
he was awakened by a shriek of “Help! help! 
help!” The cry sent him out of his chair as if he 
had been shot from a gun; then he remained for a 
moment motionless in the middle of the floor, 
dazed and uncertain what to do. Senora Velasco 
had gone to the village to make some purchases 
and had taken Olympic and the children with her. 
There was no one in the house, therefore, but 
Jules, Guillot and Aunt Catalina. To the mind of 
Jules there was but one explanation of the mys- 
tery. The foppish valet had more than once ex- 
pressed in the kitchen his indignation at the old 
lady’s fondness for meddling with his affairs, and 
only that morning had darkly hinted his probable 
68 


GRIS CREATES EXCITEMENT 


action should she continue to nag him. He would 
not answer for the consequences, he said, — which 
is a very significant threat. 

“Help! H-e-l-p!” cried the voice again in more 
agonizing tones than before. Yes, Guillot evident- 
ly was keeping his word in a decisive and awful 
manner. Jules seized his wooden staff and ran up 
stairs with a swiftness surprising in one of his 
years. Without knocking, he opened Aunt Cat- 
alina’s door, for one does not stand upon ceremony 
when murder is being done, and he found her ly- 
ing on her couch with her eyes closed. It was evi- 
dent that Guillot, having accomplished his fell 
purpose, had fled. But it was not too late to re- 
suscitate his victim, for she still breathed. Seizing 
a cup of water, Jules dashed it into the old lady’s 
face. The effect was surprising. She sat up in- 
stantly and at the same time gave the old man a 
cuff on the side of the head that made his ears ring 
and astonished him so much that he could only 
stand and stare at her. 

“May I ask,” she cried, adjusting her cap and 
almost choking with rage, “what you mean by such 
idiotic and impertinent conduct?” 

“Why did the Senorita cry ^Help! help!’ at the 
top of her voice, if she did not want me to hasten 
to her aid?” asked Jules somewhat sulkily. 

“I did not cry for help or anything like it,” 
she replied. “It is a pretext for a foolish jest on 
your part. For a person of your age and in your 

69 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


position it is inexcusable, and I have a great mind 
to discharge you this instant.” 

But so earnestly and in a manner so convincing 
did he deny all intention on his part to play a 
joke upon her that she was forced to believe him. 
“When I entered the room I thought the Senorita 
was almost dead,” said he; “I had no idea that she 
was asleep.” 

“I was not asleep,” she testily replied, for it was 
a statement often made by this lady that not only 
did she never sleep in the daytime, but that she lay 
awake during the greater part of the night. “I 
merely had closed my eyes to rest them,” she 
added. 

“Then it is Guillot, who is amusing himself at 
our expense.” 

“Let us find him then,” promptly said Aunt Cat- 
alina, who never hesitated to give any culprit a 
bad quarter of an hour. 

“Fool, fool, fool!” said the voice as they left the 
room. 

“You will soon find out who is the fool,” cried 
Aunt Catalina angrily. “Come here this instant, 
sir, and explain your conduct.” 

This imperious command was received in dead 
silence. 

“Are you coming?” called Aunt Catalina 
sharply. 

No answer. 

“I shall take care that Madame la Marquise 

70 


GRIS CREATES EXCITEMENT 


hears of your disgraceful trick. You shall be dis- 
missed without a character, I promise you.” 

As this threat seemed to be considered by the 
culprit as unworthy of a reply, the old lady stalked 
down the stairs in quest of him, Jules following, 
still grasping the staff; for he felt that he owed 
Guillot a trouncing for the blow which the latter’s 
folly had gained for him and which still burned 
on his right ear. 

The voice had seemed to come from the en- 
trance hall, but there was no one there, though in 
their search they even looked up the wide chim- 
ney. “He has slipped up stairs,” said Aunt Cat- 
alina; and the two mounted the stairs to the east 
rooms. Guillot occupie^^a room next to that of his 
young master, and there on the floor they found 
the valet, apparently fast asleep and certainly 
snoring. 

In his eagerness to administer what he consid- 
ered a just punishment, Jules dropped the staff to 
the floor with a sharp clatter which caused the 
valet to rise to his feet. 

“What is the matter?” he asked, surveying with 
astonishment the irate couple before him. 

“Matter enough!” growled the old man, seizing 
the valet by the collar. “What do you mean by 
amusing yourself at our expense, first by crying 
for help and next by calling me a fool?” 

“I did nothing of the kind!” exclaimed Guillot, 
disengaging himself from the old man’s grasp. 
71 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

“Judging by the sunshine on the floor I must have 
been sleeping for an hour. I did not call for help 
and I never have called you a fool, no matter what 
my private opinion may have been.” For Guillot 
was not in very good humor with' Jules at that 
moment. 

“Then who could it have been?” asked Aunt 
Catalina and Jules, looking at each other. 

“I think I can explain,” said the valet. “It is 
that beast of a Gris, — those are some of the words 
he often uses.” 

He had scarcely finished speaking when the cry 
of “Help!” repeated several times came up in ear- 
splitting tones from below. The three now de- 
scended the staircase and behind an archway in 
the main hall they found the parrot perched on 
the shoulder of a suit of armor, from which un- 
usual resting place he surveyed them in a coldly 
indifferent, if not supercilious, manner, as if won- 
dering why they had come to disturb him. 

“He has flown across the courtyard and entered 
the house through the window,” said Jules, eying 
the bird with respect, now he found that it really 
could talk. “Do you suppose he was afraid and 
wanted us to come to him?” 

“No; he has not the faintest notion what he is 
talking about,” replied Guillot contemptuously. 
“He will call for help when he wants his break- 
fast and he has said ‘Fool, fool!’ a hundred times 
when he was all by himself.” 

72 


GRIS CREATES EXCITEMENT 


“He may have been thinking about somebody 
he was acquainted with/’ observed Jules reflect- 
ively. 

“Don’t you believe it,” replied the valet. “Birds 
haven’t anything to think with. They are not in- 
tellectual like you and me.” 

“I don’t suppose he could prepare a ragout such 
as I can make, nor could he curl hair as you do,” 
said Jules; “but it is not a fact that birds do not 
think. You know how the blessed Saint Francis of 
Assisi loved birds as being, as he said, most un- 
earthly in their nature. You know that he once 
preached a sermon to the birds and they listened 
most attentively, with their beaks open, their necks 
outstretched and their wings spread. He walked 
right in the midst of them with his robe fluttering 
about him, but the birds did not stir until he had 
given them his blessing and dismissed them, just 
as in church we wait for the service to be finished. 
And Saint Francis was sorry he had not been in the 
habit of preaching to birds as well as to human 
beings.” 

To this statement Guillot made no reply. Jules 
had related a miracle in which he as well as most 
people of the time believed, and if birds could un- 
derstand a sermon they were even more clever 
than himself, Guillot thought, for he often had 
been puzzled at what he heard from the pulpit. 

Having solved the mystery of the voice it was 
now time for apologies. Upon the rare occasions 

73 


THE QUEEN'S PAGE 

when she believed herself to have been in the 
wrong Aunt Catalina was not averse to admitting 
it, so she now expressed her regret to Jules for hav- 
ing cuffed him, since the old man had meant to do 
her a favor, and Jules asked Guillot’s pardon for 
having grasped him by the collar, while Gris, the 
cause of it all, eyed the trio in sphinx-like silence. 


74 


CHAPTER VII 
guillot’s story of the sculptor 

Autumn had now come to touch the land with 
her cool breath and to tint the foliage with her 
magic brush. During the chill evenings the great 
kitchen was unquestionably the most attractive 
spot in the old castle. 

Around its broad hearthstone were assembled 
one evening after supper Pedro, Petronilla, Fa- 
bien, Guillot, Jules, Olympie and Tomas, to which 
company was added the village cobbler, who had 
come to bring a pair of shoes for Petronilla, and 
the tailor’s apprentice, who had come to measure 
the ever-growing Pedro for a new doublet. Both 
of these had gladly accepted the invitation of the 
hospitable Jules to linger and chat for an hour or 
two. Lastly there entered a tall man, a Spaniard, 
clad in the robe of a monk and carrying a pilgrim’s 
staff, who, on his way through the mountains to 
the shrine of his favorite saint, had been attracted 
by the light from the windows and had asked per- 
mission to rest for a while before continuing his 
journey. 

Considering himself the host, as he ever did, 
when in the kitchen, the old cook beamed with 
75 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


good nature; he heaped fagots upon the fire 
and rubbed his hands with satisfaction when the 
crackling flames wound about the twigs and licked 
them up. He roasted chestnuts in the ashes and 
served them hot to the company, at the same time 
warming their very hearts with cups of mulled 
wine. All enjoyed these simple refreshments save 
the stranger, who, with gloomy eyes fixed on the 
fire, waved them aside with a brief word of thanks. 

“This is pleasant enough,” remarked Guillot, 
“but for one who has lived at the court of France, 
the quiet of this place is enough to cause madness. 
For two years I was the valet of a gay young no- 
bleman, and during that time I was in the midst 
of more exciting events than most men experience 
in a lifetime. My lord fought eight duels while I 
was with him, and I could not tell how many con- 
flicts we were engaged in as we rode about the 
country. Then I used to accompany him to jousts 
and tourneys and to the entrance to the ball-room, 
where I often caught glimpses of the celebrated 
beauties of the day.” 

“Where is the young nobleman now?” asked the 
cobbler with interest. 

“He was killed in the eighth duel. You may be 
sure he no longer exists, else I should be with him 
at this moment. Ah, those were glorious days! 
Would that I could live them over again!” 

“Wait until I grow up and you shall have other 
days just like them, if not finer,” said Fabien. “I 

76 





vm' 



aring the chill evenings the great kitchen was the most attractive spot 

75 







GUILLOT’S STORY OF THE SCULPTOR 


shall fight at least one duel every day in the year 
and I intend to go to balls every night.” 

All laughed at this remark, save the stranger, 
who cast a disapproving glance upon Guillot as 
he said: “My friend, you should not speak thus 
in the presence of the young; and, moreover, life 
at court is but a fair-seeming fruit which upon 
near acquaintance turns to dust and ashes. Thus it 
is deemed by one who has seen the splendid court 
of Charles the Fifth in all its magnificence, who 
knew the empress when, in the pride of her beauty 
and of her royal birth, she came to share the 
throne of Spain, and who but a few weeks ago ac- 
companied her poor remains to their last resting- 
place. There the once vain and haughty noble, 
looking upon that wasted form, that wreck of 
beauty, vowed to turn his back upon the world 
where pride and pomp were fleeting and where 
all mortal frames, whether robed in cloth of gold 
or fustian, alike find a resting-place in the tomb.” 
The pilgrim rose and, bowing slightly, passed out 
into the night, as well as out of their lives. 

“B-r-r-r!” shivered Guillot, “I am glad he is 
gone! His presence was like a blighting shadow.” 

“He was about as cheerful as a ghost,” re- 
marked Tomas. 

“I know who it was!” cried the cobbler sudden- 
ly. “I heard about him from a friend of mine who 
is — well, who, in short, is a smuggler and who trav- 
els back and forth between this country and Spain. 

77 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


The stranger in your kitchen this night, my friend 
Jules, was no other than Don Francisco de 
Borja, the Duke of Gandia, who, having been 
grand ecuyer to the late Queen of Spain, accom- 
panied her remains to their tomb in Granada and 
who suddenly made up his mind to don the garb 
of the holy Brotherhood.” 

Jules was rendered speechless for the moment 
by the assurance that a celebrated Spanish noble 
had rested for a time beside his kitchen fire. He 
regretted that circumstances had not permitted 
his preparing for his guest one of the meals for 
which he felt he was justly celebrated. 

'^‘Because he is tired of the world,” observed 
Guillot, “is no reason why every one else should 
want to become a monk.” 

“True,” said the cobbler, “and it is no news that 
death claims the queen as well as the beggar.” 

“My notion of life,” said Jules, “is that it is like 
a dinner. First is the soup, or childhood; next 
comes the delicate fish, or youth; next full man- 
hood, with the meats and all that go with them; 
then we go on until we come to the sweets, when 
the meal is finished. Now, we can enjoy every 
course if we take it moderately and if we have not 
overeaten ourselves in the previous one; but if we 
are gluttonous at the meat coursed, we are indiffer- 
ent to what follows it, and we long to leave the 
table.” 

Fabien opened his wide mouth in a yawn which 

7S 


GUILLOrS STORY OF THE SCULPTOR 


he made no effort to conceal. ^This kind of talk 
is tiresome,” he observed, with his usual frank- 
ness. “Guillot, tell us a story!” 

The valet did not feel in the least like telling a 
story; he would have liked better to astonish these 
rustics with tales of what he had seen in Paris. 
But he was employed to care for and amuse the 
little marquis and he was obliged to obey his auto- 
cratic young master. So he leaned back comforta- 
bly on the settle and began : 

“There once lived in a fair city of Italy a 
sculptor, who was so perfect in his art that be- 
holders, seeing the figures he chiseled, almost for- 
got that the pure white marble was not real flesh 
and blood, and they were ready to affirm that the 
dimpled limbs of his cherubs moved, that his 
graceful maidens breathed, that his saints and ma- 
donnas — ” 

“Stop that, Guillot!” interrupted Fabien. 

“Stop what. Monsieur le Marquis?” 

“I mean quit dragging along like that. Get at 
the story and tell it.” 

“Am I not telling it just as fast as I can?” re- 
turned the valet in an injured tone. “You can not 
plunge into the middle of a story as you would 
leap into a pool for a bath! Well, at any rate, the 
young sculptor became so spoiled by flattery, and 
grew to be so very vain, that there were few things 
in this world that were good enough for him, and 
he became so very particular that he would not 

79 


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talk to anybody whose features were not as regular 
as were those of his own Greek figures ; for he said 
that the sight of a pug nose or of a pair of ears that 
stood out from the head made him positively ill. 
So when he wanted to express his mind about any- 
thing, as one often does, he talked to one of his own 
statues. He told the statue of Apollo what he 
thought about music, Diana how much game he 
killed when he went hunting, while to Venus he 
discoursed of beauty, and so on. 

“One day a rich uncle of the sculptor died and 
it was found that he had left his nephew an enor- 
mous fortune upon condition that he would marry 
within a month from the date of the uncle’s death. 
The nephew wanted the money badly, for he 
sighed for a marble palace with dancing nymphs 
and such things carved over the inside if it; but he 
did not care to marry. He had never seen a woman 
as beautiful as he wished his wife to be, or any- 
thing like his ideal, in fact, so he was in despair. 

“ ‘If I could only make a wife for myself,’ he 
said, ‘I should be satisfied; but to sit at table op- 
posite a nose that had not been modeled according 
to my ideas of beauty, would drive me mad.’ 

“But there was no time to waste in lamenting. 
Two weeks had flown since his uncle’s death and 
he was no nearer marriage than before, not having 
seen a woman whose face he thought he could en- 
dure to look at for the rest of his natural life. It 
seemed to him that he never had seen, so many 

8o 


GUILLOTS STORY OF THE SCULPTOR 


plain women as were appearing just at this time, 
when he was anxious to find a beautiful wife ; and 
he began to fear that as the time for selection was 
growing short he might be forced to take the first 
one who would say ^yes’ or lose the fortune. 

^Tive days before the time had elapsed the 
sculptor, driven to desperation, painted a notice 
on a board and nailed it to a tree in front of a shop 
where sweets were sold and which was much pat- 
ronized by the ladies. The notice stated that a 
famous sculptor wished to be married at once 
to a woman who answered the following des- 
cription, — then came the color of the eyes, the 
shape of the nose, the height of the figure and all 
the perfection of beauty he demanded in the wo- 
man who should be so fortunate as to be chosen for 
his bride. To this was added his place of abode 
and the hours at which he could be found there. 

‘‘Now you must know that really worthy and 
beautiful women are not obliged to find a husband 
in this manner, and such ladies passed the notice 
by, holding their heads very high in the air. But 
all the really homely women, the soured, disagree- 
able and elderly maidens who never had been 
sought in marriage flocked to his studio, and the 
sight of so many irregular features almost finished 
the poor sculptor. They continued to pour in at 
such a rate that he was obliged to bar the door 
and to send his servant at breakneck speed to take 
down the sign and break it to pieces. 

8i 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


“When three days of the five had gone an old 
man dressed in brown came to the house at twi- 
light and asked to see the sculptor. Afraid that it 
might be another woman who had thus disguised 
herself in order to see him, the young man directed 
that the caller should be refused admittance; but 
the stranger thrust himself past the servant and 
without ceremony presented himself to the master. 

“ T know your wish, O gifted youth,’ he said, 
‘and I know all your thoughts.’ 

“ ‘And who are you, who are so wise?’ asked the 
sculptor. 

“ ‘That, you may not know, but I have it in my 
power to give you a wife after your own heart. 
With your own hands you shall fashion her from 
purest marble.’ 

“ ‘Of what avail would be a marble figure?’ 
asked the sculptor wearily. ‘It is a living wife that 
I must have and she must be found within two days 
or my noble fortune will be lost.’ 

“‘And a living wife you shall have. Fashion 
her first and then she shall be made to live after- 
ward.’ 

“The sculptor’s heart beat high with hope at 
these words. The old man handed him a brown 
disk about the size of a silver crown-piece, but 
quite thick, and he said: ‘When you are all ready 
to begin your work, set a spark to this pastil, which 
will burn for forty-five hours, and your statue will 
live at the end of that time, whether completed or 

82 


GUILLOT’S STORY OF THE SCULPTOR 


not; so beware and work rapidly, else you will 
have a monster upon your hands.’ 

‘^The sculptor at first thought that he would let 
both wife and fortune go rather than venture upon 
so uncertain a task, for the very thought of its pos- 
sibilities made him nervous. But after his strange 
visitor had departed he drank a glass of ice-cold 
water; then selecting a block of his finest marble 
and putting his sharpest tools close at hand he set 
fire to the pastil. The disk burned with a steady 
blue flame, filling the room with a pleasant, pun- 
gent odor which invigorated him like a breath of 
crisp cold air on a fine winter morning. He went 
to work like a madman, making the chips of 
marble fly so fast that the studio looked as if it had 
been in the way of a passing snowstorm. 

“After a while the marble began to take the 
form of a graceful woman. He was so nervous 
that he resolved to postpone the work upon 
the head until he felt calmer, so as yet that part 
of the figure was a mere block of marble; but the 
shoulders became smooth and dimpled, the arms 
rounded, the waist slender, , the hands delicately 
tapering and the feet a dream of exquisite pro- 
portion, while the whole figure seemed as full of 
life and as lissome as though dancing upon a 
moonbeam. 

“Then he began the head, and, oh, how care- 
fully he worked! The head took a noble shape, 
with its abundant wavy hair; the small ears were 
83 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

perfect, the curve of the chin was faultless and the 
lips were so alluring in their mischievous smile 
that the sculptor laughed aloud with joy as he sur- 
veyed them. 

‘‘But still the nose was a shapeless mass, for he 
had left that feature until the last. He turned to 
find one of his most delicate tools and turned cold 
as he beheld the disk, of which there was a very 
small piece left, burning with a faintly flickering 
flame. Oh, what a madman he had been! he now 
said to himself. Why had he not finished the head 
and left the risk of imperfection to the feet? He 
bitterly regretted his foolish nervousness in leav- 
ing the head for the last in the hope that he would 
gain more confidence as he worked. Carefully he 
chipped at the nose; nearer and nearer it was as- 
suming a resemblance to life; now it was all fin- 
ished save the top, there being a piece about the 
size of a large pea on the bridge of it which must 
be taken off, and then it would be completed. Just 
a few moments more — and here he heard a splut- 
ter, and, looking around, he saw that the disk was 
entirely consumed! It was too late to finish his 
work; and here was the statue, the perfection of 
beauty in every particular save the nose, which 
had an unsightly hump on the bridge. 

“The sculptor threw himself on the floor and 
gave himself up to despair. When he rose he 
glanced at his work, spoiled for ever by that hid- 
eous imperfection, and his heart beat for joy, for 
84 


GUILLOT’S STORY OF THE SCULPTOR 


the figure did not live. It was still a marble statue. 
He resolved to break it up before it came to life. 
Let the fortune go; he would be well rid of it if 
the price he must pay would be for ever to behold 
that ridiculous nose. 

. ^‘He took the hammer and hit it a blow on the 
arm. 

“ ‘O-o-o-o-h!’ shrieked the statue, vigorously 
rubbing her elbow. ^How can you be so cruel?’ 
Instantly her cheek glowed with the tint of life, 
her eyes turned blue and sparkled, her hair rip- 
pled a rich gold, while her drapery became silken 
and was adorned with lace like the breath of frost. 
She stepped from her pedestal and buried her face 
in her hands. 

“ Tt is unkind of you to treat me so when I 
have been your wife such a little, little while,’ she 
sobbed. ‘To strike me, and with a hammer!’ 

“‘Madame, pray forgive me! I thought you 
were of marble,’ he stammered. 

“ ‘Marble, indeed! It is you who have a marble 
heart. But I will forgive you if you will not strike 
me again.’ She raised her head with a coquettish 
glance, which would have been irresistible had it 
not been for that terrible nose. 

“Well, she was his wife and there was no getting 
around it; and she was strong and vigorous and 
would live to a good old age. There was nothing 
to do but to claim the fortune — which he did — 
and he built the marble palace with the goddesses 
8s 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

and the dancing nymphs just as he had dreamed 
that it should be. And in time he was very happy, 
for his wife was so sweet and so unselfish that, 
though her nose was always the same, he never saw 
the imperfection, for love had touched his eyelids 
with magic and ere long he grew to consider her 
the most beautiful woman in all the world; and 
had he been carving another wife he would have 
made her just like this one even to the hump on the 
nose.” 

^‘Every man should think his wife beautiful,” 
observed Olympie, when the story was finished. 

No one replied to this remark, though some of 
those present thought that Jules would be obliged 
to be endowed with a lurid imagination to see any 
beauty in Olympie, whose nose was not only longer 
than seemed to be at all necessary, but also was 
slightly humped on the bridge. 

‘‘Did Jules carve you out of marble, Olympie?” 
asked Fabien, eying her curiously. 

“No,” snapped the old woman, “and I should 
not have thanked him for it if he had. I should 
have been a great deal better off in a block of 
marble than out of it.” This had been one of 
Olympie’s busy and, consequently, cross days. 

Senora Velasco had entered the kitchen before 
Guillot had finished his story and unseen by the 
others had slipped into a chair in a shadowy cor- 
ner. She now came forward and all rose respect- 
fully as they became aware of her presence. “I 
86 


GUILLOT’S STORY OF THE SCULPTOR 


was much interested in the story of the sculptor’s 
bride,” said she, “and it teaches a lesson which I 
hope these young people will remember, and that 
is that beauty of soul is of far more consequence 
than loveliness of feature. And now, my children, 
it is bedtime.” 

Jules handed his mistress a candle, Guillot and 
his little master followed Senora Velasco, who 
walked between her two children down the dark 
cold hall. The fitful glare of the light caused their 
shadows to play a fantastic game on the walls. 
Fabien shuffled along, trying to swing his whole 
weight on Guillot’s arm. 

“Guillot shall tell me stories after I am in bed; 
you have not a valet to tell you stories, — you, yah 
Pedro !” he said mockingly. 

“We have our mother to tuck us in bed and she 
is better than valets and stories,” returned the 
other boy. 

“And you would both be happier if you would 
cease to taunt,” said she. 


87 


CHAPTER VIII 


PETRONILLA AND MAROC 

Petronilla owned a doll of which she was very 
fond, but the small girl of to-day, whose doll can 
open and close its eyes and has real hair, would 
laugh at the grotesque object of Petronilla’s affec- 
tion. 

Tomas, who was supposed to have a gift for cut- 
ting things out of wood, made this specimen of the 
doll family, remarkable for various peculiarities 
of face and form. Its nose was entirely too flat for 
beauty, and one eye was a good deal larger than ' 
the other; but as if the artist had wished to be per- 
fectly fair and not give one optic any advantage, 
the small eye was higher than its fellow. The 
lower limbs had been carved, but never separated, j 
being still in one block. This last mentioned in- j 
firmity was very annoying to Petronilla, though it i 
did not grieve her so much as another strange j 
freak of her child. The arms had been hung on 
pegs to enable them to move; but the right arm 
had from the very first refused to come down after 
being once raised above the head. This gave the ; 
doll the attitude of one who is about to make a 


PETRONILLA AND MAROC 


declaration or utter a command. This position, be- 
ing constantly maintained, was not only unnatural, 
but it interfered with the fit of her gowns and even 
spoiled the effect of her bonnets. 

The little girl soon made friends with Maroc 
and found him to be a far more satisfactory doll 
than the strange object created by Tomas. She 
often had wished for a live doll — a desire which 
found its expression in a frequent dressing-up of 
the cat. But Puss objected most decidedly to 
clothing of any kind and never failed to undress 
herself at the earliest possible moment. 

Maroc, on the contrary, wore his clothes with- 
out making any objection unless the strings of his 
cap happened to be too tight; then he put up his 
paws and tried to loosen them. Petronilla made 
clothes for him out of old gowns of her own and 
hugely enjoyed the sport. She often wished that 
Maroc had no tail, for she thought it spoiled the 
general effect of his costume; but no one is perfect. 

She always gave him something good to eat after 
she had played with him, which probably was one 
reason why he was so obliging. Maroc always took 
anything that was offered to him in the way of a 
delicacy, and if he felt that he would not relish it 
at the moment he stored it away in his jaw to be 
left, so to speak, until called for. There were times 
when he looked as if he were suffering from a 
siege of toothache on both sides of his face, 
but it was nothing more serious than a store of sun- 

89 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


dry goodies which he was keeping to enjoy at a 
more convenient season. 

One morning, with Maroc in her arms, Petro- 
nilla wandered to her aunt’s bedroom. The old 
lady was busy in another part of the mansion, and 
her niece examined at her leisure a good many 
things she was not allowed to touch when her grim 
relative was present. After a while she resolved to 
put the monkey baby to bed. 

A hundred years before, John, the husband of 
Blanche, Queen of Navarre, had, when hunting in 
the mountains, stopped for a time at the castle, and 
Aunt Catalina chose to occupy the room which had 
been honored by his stay in it and to sleep in the 
bed where the head of royalty had rested. The 
bed, with its dark curtains and heavy canopy, was 
as gloomy in appearance as if it had been haunted 
by the uneasy dreams of all those who had sought 
repose beneath its drapery. But Petronilla did not 
think of its history as she gaily turned down the 
covers and placed lyiaroc beneath them. 

Her playfellow objected to bed, or it may have 
been that he was not inclined to sleep ; anyhow, it 
was only after a series of struggles that she could 
induce him to lie quiet. Then she said, “That red 
cap is not suitable for you to sleep in, my dear; 
you shall have my aunt’s nightcap.” 

Aunt Catalina’s nightcap was not spangled as 
the nightcaps of Queen Elizabeth were at a later 
date, but was of coarse linen trimmed with home- 




PETRONILLA AND MAROC 


made lace. Of course there was a great difference 
between the size of the old lady’s head and that of 
the monkey, but by dint of using a great many 
wooden pins, turning back the front and tying the 
strings twice about the neck, Petronilla finally 
made it fit. “Now,” said she, “you are Aunt Cat- 
alina, and you are very ill and I have come to 
bring you some lovely feuillantines/* 

“What are you doing in my room?” asked a 
harsh voice at her elbow; and, turning with a start 
of surprise, the little girl beheld her aunt. 

Maroc, who was very much afraid of Aunt Cat- 
alina, sprang from the bed and ran up the post to 
the top of the canopy. Ousted from that place of 
refuge by a mop handle wielded by the vigorous 
arms of the irate old lady, he leaped to the floor, 
ran down the stairs and out of doors, and climbed a 
tree, still wearing the nightcap. On the topmost 
limb he sat and trembled and probably execrated 
the general injustice of things, which caused him 
to suffer for a transgression for which he was not 
only not responsible, but of which he had strongly 
disapproved. 

He was taken from the tree by Petronilla, who 
said : “Whip me. Aunt Catalina, but do not touch 
Maroc, who is not to blame.” 

The old lady clutched her niece’s arm and led 
her to the bedroom. There she was made to take 
out the pins and replace them where she had 
found them, to fold the cap and put it away and 

91 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


then to remove all the bed covering and replace 
it without a wrinkle, Aunt Catalina watching her 
meanwhile with fiery eyes. 

“Now,” said her aunt, when this was finished, 
“take your lace-work and sit down. You do not 
go out of the house this day! You ought to be put 
down in that old donjon-keep in the ruined wing 
of the castle where prisoners used to be sent for 
smaller crimes than yours, I warrant you. To put 
that disgusting animal in my bed! I do not see 
how I can ever sleep in it again.” 

Fabien and Pedro, searching for Petronilla, 
looked in at the door, where they found the' small 
prisoner working diligently with bent head, while 
her jailer raised her hand, saying: “Make your 
plans without reference to her. She plays no more 
to-day, I can tell you!” 

As the two boys went out to the courtyard Fa- 
bien said: “I will tell you what would be a fine 
thing to do! Let us go to that forest beyond the 
village.” 

Pedro shook his head. “We are not allowed to 
go so far away from home without Tomas, and he 
is busy.” 

“That does not make any difference; let us take 
the horses and go anyway.” 

“We could not get them out of the stable with- 
out being seen.” 

“Will you go if your mother says we may go 
alone? I will ask her,” said Fabien. 

93 



“ Now,” said she, “ you are Aunt Catalina and you are very ill” 

Page (^i 


•< a)On >< -H 







PETRONILLA AND MAROC 


‘‘Of course I would, but there is no use in your 
asking, she will be sure to say no.” 

“I shall try, anyway,” said the French boy. 
“People do not often refuse me anything.” 

He went inside and soon returned, saying: “She 
says we can not have the horses and that we must 
not bother Tomas, but that we can take Tonito, 
who is loose in the barnyard, and go to the forest 
if we like.” 

“I am very glad to hear it,” said Pedro. “I am 
going to ask her if we would better — ” 

“No, no,” interrupted Fabien. “She said not to 
trouble her again as she was just going into the 
chapel to pray.” 

Pedro knew that his mother, who was very 
pious, often went into the castle chapel, or oratory, 
to pray at this hour, so he gave up the idea of 
speaking to her, saying: “Then I will ask Jules 
to put something in a bag for us to eat, for we shall 
be hungry before we return.” 

“I am not going to carry food like a peasant,” 
replied Fabien haughtily. “We will stop at the 
village inn and order a dinner. I have plenty of 
money in my purse to pay for it.” 

“But I have no money to pay for mine, and 
Jules can as well — ” 

“I tell you I won’t have it! I shall pay for both 
of us. I know how a gentleman should conduct 
himself at an inn, I should hope. I journeyed 
from Nerac to Pau with my uncle, the Count de 

93 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

Saint Victor, who is one of the finest gentlemen in 
the French court, and I shall not be at a loss what 
to do.” 

By the time the boys were ready to go they 
found Tonito saddled and tied to a tree. Fabien 
looked surprised, but Pedro said Tomas must have 
heard that they were allowed to go and had made 
the little animal ready for them. 

Fabien said, “Let us hurry and get away before 
Tomas comes back.” 

“Why?” asked Pedro. 

“Oh, just to show him that we can get started 
without his assistance.” 

Pedro mounted in the saddle while Fabien sat 
behind him. The latter carried a stick, with 
which he occasionally struck Tonito, and they 
were soon going down the road as rapidly as the 
little donkey could carry them. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE CONSEQUENCES OF BOASTING 

“This is fine!” cried Fabien as they trotted 
toward the village. “I like to be a man once in a . 
while. It is such a bore to be watched all the time. 

I can not move without Guillot at my heels.” 

“It is not very much like a man to be riding be- 
hind some one on a donkey,” observed Pedro. 

“Oh, but, you see, I am a nobleman who is riding 
out with two donkeys,” returned Fabien with a 
giggle. 

Instantly Tonito’s head was turned toward 
home. 

“What is the matter?” asked Fabien in alarm. 

“The matter is that we are going home. I shall 
not take a trip with you behind me if you intend 
to make disagreeable remarks all the way. I do 
not care for that one, but I know you, Fabien. You 
will keep on and pretty soon you will begin to 
pinch — ” 

“No, I shall not. I shall not say another taunt- 
ing word, — on the honor of a gentleman.” 

“Very well then.” And Tonito’s head was 
again turned toward the village. 

“I am growing very hungry,” said Fabien after 
a while. “Which is the best inn in the village?” 

95 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


“There is but one.” 

“Then we must go to that one, and you must let 
me do all the talking, for I have traveled and you 
have not.” 

“It is only fair that you should do all the talk- 
ing, since you have the money.” 

“That is true. I put three gold pieces and a lot 
of silver in my purse. Guillot was saving the gold 
to pay for something, but I took it out of the box. 
It is mine and I think it is much pleasanter to 
spend your money for amusement than to use it in 
paying debts.” 

“My mother says, pay your debts, and if there is 
anything left keep it for yourself,” said Pedro. 

“She is a woman,” returned Fabien loftily. 
“When women talk you can let them keep on talk- 
ing, but you can have plenty of thoughts inside of 
your head that they do not know anything about. 
A gentleman never pays his debts.” 

“If you did not intend to pay for anything, why 
did you bring your purse?” asked Pedro indig- 
nantly; adding: “If you are going to cheat the 
innkeeper out of the price of the dinner I shall not 
eat a bite of it.” 

“Of course I shall pay for the dinner. The kind 
of debts I mentioned are those you owe the tailor 
and people like that. Guillot says his other master 
did not pay his tailor for five years and made Guil- 
lot put him out when he came to ask for his 
money.” 


96 


THE CONSEQUENCES OF BOASTING 


^‘Then he was just a low-born thief and nothing 
else,” cried Pedro. 

They rode up to the inn and dismounted, Fabien 
directing the grinning stable-boy to take charge 
of their steed, at the same time throwing the aston- 
ished youth a piece of silver. 

Entering the inn the little marquis said to the 
landlord: ‘‘See that my horse has plenty of oats, 
my good man, and that he has a good rubbing- 
down.” 

The innkeeper laughed. “You may call that 
beast a horse if it pleases you, my little man,” said 
he, “but I call it a donkey.” 

Fabien frowned. “Do you know to whom you 
are talking?” he asked. 

“No, I do not, but I should know this little fel- 
low. Are you not the son of Senora Velasco, my 
boy?” 

“Yes, I am Pedro Hernandez de Velasco.” 

“And I am Fabien Alexandre Pierre Auguste, 
Marquis de Tallanges,” said the other boy. 

The landlord laughed again, but his smile 
turned to a look of respect when Fabien took out 
the contents of his purse and, after glancing at 
them carelessly, replaced them, saying: “And now, 
my good fellow, prepare dinner for us. A venison 
pasty, a couple of fowls and four bottles of your 
best wine, — the very best, look you, and anything 
you may have in the way of sweets, and make haste 
about it, too!” 


97 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

“Yes, Monsieur le Marquis, certainly, sir,” re- 
plied the innkeeper, who had been greatly im- 
pressed by the sight of so much money. 

A dark man was quietly taking a meal at the 
other end of the room. This individual was of 
somewhat forbidding appearance, owing to a 
scar that diagonally crossed one side of his face 
from temple to chin. His clothes were not very 
clean, but he wore a red sash knotted about his 
waist and a pair of small gold rings in his ears. 
Engaged with his bread, cheese and wine, he 
seemed to be paying no attention to the latest arri- 
vals, though Fabien jingled his coins and amused 
himself by tossing his gold pieces up in the air and 
catching them as they fell. 

“Why did you order so much for dinner, Fa- 
bien?” asked Pedro. “We never can eat it. And 
two fowls! Why, we could not eat all of one. And 
four bottles of wine! I never drink it and you are 
not allowed to touch it. Why did you not order 
milk instead?” 

“Milk!” was the contemptuous reply. “Do you 
suppose I am going to order at an inn such a baby’s 
drink as milk? Who ever heard of such a thing? 
As to the rest of the dinner we can leave what we 
do not care for. I did not want to seem stingy 
when I ordered it.” 

“Well, do not be alarmed; you did not seem 
stingy. But if you try to drink much wine you will 
be tipsy and I shall have to fetch Guillot.” 

98 


THE CONSEQUENCES OF BOASTING 


‘‘I do not intend to taste the wine,” replied Fa- 
bien. “I hate the stuff, because there used to be a 
dreadful medicine that I was made to swallow in 
wine. I never shall like it — which is a great pity, 
for gentlemen always drink.” 

“Then what will you do with all those bottles? 
It was very foolish to order them, for of course 
you will have to pay for them.” 

“I do not know what I shall do with it. Do not 
bother about it. If we should order a dinner with- 
out wine the innkeeper would think nothing at all 
of us.” 

“As it is,” said Pedro, “he will think us boobies 
for ordering what we can not use.” 

When the waiter began to arrange the table 
Fabien said : “If that is for us you may place it by 
the window, as we do not intend to eat in the cor- 
ner like two pussy-cats.” 

“Certainly, Monsieur le Marquis.” And the 
table was removed to the desired spot. 

Such a dinner as Fabien ordered can not be pro- 
duced in the twinkling of an eye, but that youth 
grew very cross because it was so long delayed. 
He scolded the waiter, he sent three times for the 
landlord, who explained that a meat pasty re- 
quires time to prepare, and that a dinner worthy 
of a guest so distinguished can not be served in a 
moment. The man at the other end of the room 
had long since departed when the dinner was 
served, and with it one bottle of wine. 


I. OFC. 


99 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

ordered four bottles,” said Fabien; “it is a 
great pity that I can not have what I want.” 

“Certainly, Monsieur le Marquis, but I am ac- 
customed to bring wine in as it is needed.” 

“Oh,” said Fabien, somewhat chagrined. “I 
meant that you should have it ready for me when 
I want it.” 

The waiter brought two tall metal cups and un- 
corked the wine. 

“Have you no silver goblets?” asked Fabien 
complainingly. 

The waiter was sorry, but all their silver was 
just now being polished. 

“Nor crystal?” insisted the boy. 

The waiter was deeply grieved, but a careless 
kitchen girl had smashed all the crystal that very 
morning. He filled the cups and left the room. 
Fabien seized them and emptied them out of the 
window, pouring what remained in the bottle out 
in the same way. 

The waiter returned almost immediately and 
the young marquis said : “Another bottle, please.” 
The man stared, took up the empty bottle and dis- 
appeared. 

When the third bottle had been emptied, the 
waiter went for the fourth in the manner of a 
man who is dazed. Then he stood and gazed 
at the two boys, who were just finishing a hearty 
dinner. He lingered about the room so long that 
Fabien was afraid he would not have an oppor- 
100 


iTHE CONSEQUENCES OF BOASTING 


tunity to dispose of the last bottle, but finally some 
one called the man from the outside, and when he 
returned the bottle was as empty as its predeces- 
sors. 

The boys both found this trick very interesting 
and, though Fabien could not quite banish his 
broad grin before the return of the waiter, Pedro 
managed to look serious and even mournful, — it 
being a complaint made by Aunt Catalina that one 
never could tell by that boy’s countenance whether 
he had been plotting mischief or saying his 
prayers. 

The innkeeper was not modest in his reckoning 
and the bill called for one of the gold pieces. 
Fabien paid as one who is accustomed to such 
prices, also giving a piece of silver to the waiter. 

As the two boys rode away on the donkey, mine 
host, his wife and all the servants went to the door 
to look after them. 

^‘May I swing from the tallest tree if I ever saw 
anything like it in all the days I have walked the 
earth!” exclaimed the innkeeper. “They are rid- 
ing just as straight as if they had been drinking 
nothing but water. One gallon of my best, strong- 
est wine have they had, and it has not even made 
them dizzy! And I will take my oath that they are 
not above a dozen years old at the outside.” 

“It did make them gay,” observed his wife; “I 
could hear them laughing.” 

“It was not the wine that made them gay, I give 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

you my word. I have seen its effects too often to be 
deceived. I tell you they were not tipsy in the 
least; the eyes of young Velasco in particular were 
as clear as two calm, pellucid lakes. If they can 
drink like this now, what will they do when they 
grow up?” 

That anybody would buy old wine on purpose to 
throw it out of the window would have seemed as 
marvelous to the landlord as the fact that two boys 
could drink so much without feeling its effects. 

In the meantime Tonito trotted contentedly 
along the road toward the forest with his burden. 
He, too, having been well fed, was disposed to be 
obliging. 

“We can take the path through the forest that 
leads to the monastery and we can surprise Brother 
Francois with a visit,” said Pedro. 

“Not for the world!” objected Fabien. “When 
we are out for a good time why do you want to visit 
a lot of mournful old monks? Brother Frangois 
will be sure to think of some lesson he wants us to 
learn before to-morrow and he will want us to 
stay for vespers.” 

“My mother would be greatly shocked to hear 
you talk in that way about the friars,” said Pedro. 

“I dare say, but she does not hear me. Guillot 
says the Huguenots do not believe in monks and he 
also says he himself thinks they are like a lot of 
old women, but he does not say a word about it to 
anybody but me, for he does not think it safe. You 
102 


THE CONSEQUENCES OF BOASTING 


see the difference between a valet and a gentleman. 
If I were grown up, and felt about it as he does, I 
should draw my sword — and I should have the 
finest one that could be bought — and I should say, 
‘Monks and friars are a lot of old women, and I 
dare anybody to deny it!’ ” 

“It would be an easy way to start a fight,” re- 
marked Pedro. 

“That would be just what I should like; when I 
grow up I expect to be fighting most of the time.” 

Thus conversing, the boys reached the forest 
path. As Fabien was averse to visiting the monas- 
tery they agreed that when they should come to a 
spot that pleased their fancy Tonito should be tied 
while the boys disported themselves among the 
trees. The sun was rapidly declining toward the 
west and it was somewhat somber in the forest. 
Pedro said, as they dismounted, that they could 
stay but a short time if they were to get home be- 
fore overtaken by darkness. 

They had just secured the donkey to a chestnut- 
tree when they heard hoof-beats on the hard path 
in the direction from which they had come. Turn- 
ing, they beheld the dark man whom they had seen 
dining at the inn. 

“Good day, my little gentlemen,” said he, “I am 
pleased to have found you. I was so anxious to see 
you again that I waited for you for some time, but 
I had taken the wrong road and only discovered 
my mistake a little while ago.” 

103 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


“Why were you anxious to see us?” asked Pedro. 
He was not favorably impressed with this stran- 
ger, who tried to look pleasant, but whose smile 
seemed to be a mere stretching of the lips to show 
a set of large, irregular teeth, — a kind of smile 
that was all on the outside and had no good fellow- 
ship back of it. 

“Why did I want to see you? Well, it is not 
every day that a common body like myself has the 
opportunity to ride in the company of two noble 
youths such as Don Pedro Hernandez de Velasco 
and Monsieur Alexandre What-do-you-call-him, 
Marquis de Mille Tonnerres.” 

“That is not my name,” snarled Fabien, “and if 
you did want to ride with us, what reason had you 
for thinking that we wanted to ride with you?” 

“For the reason that boys are always so fond 
of me. I have led a wild life of adventure and 
they like to hear me tell about it. I can also make 
a trap for a squirrel and they like to learn how 
to do It and — oh, boys always find me very en- 
chanting.” 

He grinned in a manner so comical as he made 
this reply that both boys burst out laughing. 
“Come,” said the man, dismounting, “I will tie 
my horse near yours and I will get some sticks and 
show you how to make the trap in the twinkling 
of an eye. And when you are ready to go to your 
home I shall esteem it a great honor to ride beside 
you and relate the story of how I once came very 

104 


THE CONSEQUENCES OF BOASTING 


near being slain by a wild boar, and various other 
things that have happened to me.” 

What boy could resist a program so tempting? 
“I want a pet squirrel,” said Fabien. “Will your 
trap catch him alive without crippling him?” 

“Indeed it will. It will not hurt him in the least. 
I should not be at all surprised if we should entrap 
one before we leave the forest. If not, you can take 
the trap home with you and try it another day. 
But I do not see any sticks of the right size about 
here; let us go farther into the forest.” 

He led the way, talking rapidly all the time, 
picking up a stick here and there, but always 
throwing it away after breaking it across his knee, 
and in the meantime going farther and farther 
away from the path. After a while he stopped and 
asked abruptly: “What kind of ornament is that 
you have in your hat, Monsieur le Marquis? It is 
not genuine, of course; even so noble a house as 
your own would not permit a small boy to wear a 
jewel so valuable.” 

“It is real,” replied Fabien, nettled by the fact 
that any one should imagine he did not have the 
best of everything that was going. “Have you ever 
heard of the great Italian artist, Benvenuto Cel- 
lini?” 

“Indeed I have.” 

“Well, while he was at the court of France he 
made gold medals for gentlemen to wear in their 
hats and engraved them.” 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


“Engraved the hats or the gentlemen?” asked 
the man politely. 

“He engraved the medals, of course. He put 
on them beautiful figures and floAvers such as no 
one else could do, and sometimes with the chas- 
ing he set a jewel, and one of those my grand- 
mother bought for me. She says that Benvenuto 
was so great an artist that my children and great- 
great-grandchildren will consider this medal a 
fortune.” 

“What a pity to wait so long before it is ap- 
preciated!” said the dark man with an expansive 
smile. “And then you may never marry; you may 
never be a grandfather, or even a great-grand- 
father. I, who can appreciate and value its beauty, 
should have it now.” 

And before Fabien had time to object the man 
had snatched off the hat, torn the jewel from it 
and had placed the work of Benvenuto Cellini in 
his wallet. 

“Give that back!” shouted Fabien, with great 
fury. “What do you mean by teasing me like 
this?” 

“Do not lose your temper, my dear little Mar- 
quis,” said the robber, “you will only do yourself 
harm. I think I shall take your purse, for you 
were anxious at the inn to let us all see that it was 
a fat one.” 

He imprisoned both of Fabien’s hands in one of 
his own and endeavored to loosen the purse from 
io6 


THE CONSEQUENCES OF BOASTING 


the boy’s belt, the latter meanwhile struggling and 
striving to bite his captor’s hand. 

Pedro, who up to this time had believed their 
new acquaintance to be merely indulging in rough 
play, sprang forward. Having no weapon of his 
own he drew out Fabien’s dagger and succeeded in 
giving the ruffian a somewhat severe cut on the 
arm, though the weapon was little more than a 
trifling toy. 

‘‘Oh, hoi That is your trick, is it, my little pop- 
injay?” asked the man, and having secured Fa- 
bien’s purse he turned his attention to Pedro, 
wresting the weapon from him and throwing it 
far away; then holding the boy’s arms he drew a 
strong cord from his wallet and tied him so that 
Pedro’s arms were bound to his side. Having per- 
formed the same act for Fabien he tied the boys 
to trees. He smiled as they shrieked for help. 

“I could put gags in your mouths, but I am a 
tender-hearted man; moreover, I am quite sure 
that no one will hear you as we have come a good 
distance from the path. To-morrow morning or 
the day after I have no doubt that some woodman 
will run across you and release you, or your people 
at home will search for you. Some men in my 
place would kill you, but I never kill babies. I 
was wondering how I could get some funds and 
that little braggart told me at the inn where they 
could be obtained. And I think I will take that 
fine little donkey. I sometimes need a beast to 

107 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


carry my goods. Good-by, boys, I hope you will 
not be lonely.” 

Again the boys cried aloud for help, but the 
only answer they received was the mocking laugh 
of the robber as he disappeared among the trees. 

They called aloud until they were hoarse; then 
Fabien began to weep with anger and terror. 
Pedro’s dark eyes were filled with tears, not for 
himself, but for poor little Tonito whom he never 
should see again. Then he tried to comfort Fa- 
bien. “Do not fret yourself, Fabien. My mother 
will think that we are lost in the forest and she 
will send Tomas to find us, never fear.” 

“She will not know where to send him,” sobbed 
Fabien. “Your mother does not know where we 
are, and she will be more likely to send him to 
search for us on the mountain.” 

“Why,” replied Pedro, “you told me that you 
asked if we could come to the forest and that she 
gave her consent.” 

“I did not ask her. I knew that you would not 
come without her permission and I was sure she 
would not give it, so I pretended that I had asked 
her and that she had said yes.” 

“You did?” cried Pedro indignantly. “I might 
have known that you would do a mean thing like 
thatl What will my mother think of me when I 
promised her on my honor that I never would go 
out of the great gate without her consent? But 
you told Tomas, he knows where we are.” 



* Oh, ho, that is your trick, is it, my little popinjay r” 

Page loy 


v JO or) -< 71 



THE CONSEQUENCES OF BOASTING 

‘‘Nobody knows anything about it,” replied 
Fabien sulkily. 

“Then why was Tonito saddled?” 

“I do not know; for some one else, I suppose.” 

“I will never believe another word that you 
say,” said Pedro. “You call yourself a gentleman, 
but you tell more fibs than a smuggler.” 

The French boy began to sob again, but Pedro 
was too hard-hearted to pity him. “He has done 
all the mischief, why should I, too, suffer for it?” 
he thought. A similar problem has puzzled older 
heads. 

It was now growing quite dusky in the forest. 
The twitter of the birds could no longer be heard 
as they sought their nests, and no sound disturbed 
the quiet save the whispering of the wind through 
the trees. 

“We shall have to stay here all night,” said Pe- 
dro, “and we might as well make up our minds to 
it.” He wondered if he could sleep in that posi- 
tion and he drooped his head toward his left 
shoulder. Then he found by lifting his shoulder 
he could, with his teeth, reach a strand of the cord 
which fastened him to the tree. This cord he be- 
gan to chew, for, though it was strong, it was not 
very thick, and it was not long before he found 
himself free from the tree, though his arms were 
still tied. Then he went to Fabien who, by biting 
the cord that bound Pedro’s arms, soon severed 
it; after which Pedro untied his companion. So 
10 ^ 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

they were both free and consequently much re- 
lieved, though their surroundings were anything 
but cheerful; for the owl was beginning his 
mournful shriek, which, though they knew per- 
fectly well what it was, caused the boys to shud- 
der and to take each other by the hand. 

“Come,” said Pedro, “let us see if we can find 
the path. We shall be no worse off elsewhere than 
here.” 

They stumbled along over the uneven ground, 
for they could not see where they were going, and 
they only escaped contact with the trees because 
the trees were blacker than the black mist about 
them. 

After a while the pale moon rose and filtered 
her light through the limbs and leaves of the for- 
est. The boys took heart and walked rapidly, 
though they arrived nowhere and seemed to be 
going in a circle. 

“I can not go any farther,” panted Fabien after 
a while. 

Pedro felt that this was true. Even he was very 
tired and he was much stronger than the little 
marquis. They lay down in the leaves and put 
their arms about each other for company’s sake, 
and Pedro was almost asleep when he heard the 
clump! clump! of heavy feet. Instantly he sat up, 
Fabien following suit. 

A black, four-footed animal stood quite near 
them. 


THE CONSEQUENCES OF BOASTING 


“It is a wild boar!” whispered the little marquis 
with stiffening lips. 

“It is a bear,” breathed Pedro. 

Neither was disposed to argue the matter 
which, after all, was of little importance, since if 
one is to be eaten at all one might as well satisfy 
the hunger of a bear as of a wild boar. 

“Let us run,” whispered Pedro. 

“I can not, I am too sc-c-c-ared,” whispered the 
other with chattering teeth. 

Pedro dragged his companion to his feet, and as 
he rose the former uttered a cry of delight. He 
could now see the outlines of the animal’s head 
and two tall, pointed ears, which revealed the fact 
that the creature was neither a bear nor a boar, 
but Tonito! 

Yes, it was the little donkey, which had not been 
found by the robber, but which, before the latter’s 
return, had loosened his carelessly-fastened bridle- 
strap and had wandered into the woods on his own 
account, his mind bent upon thistles. 

Pedro was so glad that the animal was not a 
wild beast and also that Tonito was not lost to him 
for ever that he threw his arms about the little 
donkey’s neck in a transport of joy. “Now we are 
all right,” he said, “for Tonito knows the way to 
the monastery and he will take us there.” 

Fabien made no objection to the monastery now, 
or even to the lecture he might expect from 
Brother Frangois, for anything was preferable to 

III 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

this dark and gloomy forest. So the two boys 
mounted as before, and in the course of an hour 
arrived at a low, square building surrounded by a 
wall. 

Pedro rang a bell at the gate, which was soon 
opened by a tall, black-robed figure which the boy 
addressed as Brother Joseph. “Won’t you take us 
in for the night? We have been robbed and tied 
to a tree.” 

“Most assuredly, my little man,” replied the 
friar, who never asked questions and never exhib- 
ited surprise at anything. “We never refuse shel- 
ter and food to the unfortunate. The evening re- 
past has not yet begun. You know the way, Pedro ; 
go to the refectory while I take care of the don- 
key.” 

Pedro led the way to a large room, where at a 
long table the friars were about to partake of a 
smoking supper. He looked for Brother Fran- 
cois, and discovered him at a raised desk at the side 
of the room, where he was about to read aloud to 
his brother monks, so that mind and body might be 
refreshed at the same time. 

Pedro did not try to speak with him, for he well 
knew that neither by word nor look would Brother 
Francois at this time manifest his knowledge of 
their presence. Two of the friars moved to one 
side and made places for their small guests, who 
were served first of all. The supper, unlike the 
dinner which Fabien had ordered at the inn, was 


THE CONSEQUENCES OF BOASTING 


plain, but it was hot and well cooked and was most 
welcome to the boys, who, now that there was no 
cause for uneasiness, were very hungry. 

Brother Francois was reading of Saint Francis: 

“A lark brought her brood of nestlings to his 
cell, to be fed from his hands. He saw that the 
strongest of these nestlings tyrannized over the 
others, pecking at them and taking more than his 
due share of food; whereupon the good saint re- 
buked the creature, saying: ^Thou unjust and in- 
satiable! thou shalt die miserably and the greed- 
iest animals shall refuse to eat thy flesh.’ And so 
it happened, for the creature drowned itself 
through impetuosity in drinking and when it was 
thrown to the cats they would not touch it.” 

Brother Frangois was turning the leaves of his 
book to find other selections when Fabien whis- 
pered to Pedro : “Those cats were different from 
any I was ever acquainted with.” 

“Hush,” said Pedro, “they will hear you.” 

When the repast was finished Brother Frangois 
came down from his desk, and with long, swing- 
ing steps at once approached the two boys. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked. “Why 
are you here at this hour?” 

Pedro told him they had left home without the 
consent of his mother, omitting to say who was to 
blame in the matter, and related their adventures 
in detail. 

Brother Francois, who by this time had learned 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


to read Fabien’s character quite well, suspected 
that the small marquis had planned the escapade, 
and by dint of much questioning he managed to 
draw out a full confession. He then read the lad a 
severe lecture upon the sin of lying. 

“You will see by what happened to-day that you 
can not sin without harming others. A misde- 
meanor is like a stone dropped into a quiet pool, 
creating waves that reach clear out to the shore. 
Your falsehood enabled you to go to a spot where 
your bragging and your vulgar display of wealth 
excited the cupidity of a man who committed the 
grave sin of theft. Your absence no doubt has 
alarmed Senora Velasco to the verge of illness, and 
it obliges me to go to the castle to-night to carry to 
her the news of your safety, though I have impor- 
tant writing to do which ought to be finished im- 
mediately.” 

At this moment the bell rang and the boys went 
with Brother Joseph to the gate. 

“The Senora Velasco has sent for Brother Fran- 
cois,” said a familiar voice. “Her son and the 
young marquis have disappeared, and she is al- 
most distracted, for she fears they have wandered 
up the mountain and have been destroyed by wild 
beasts.” 

“No, we are here, Jules,” said Pedro’s clear 
voice from the darkness. 

“The saints be praised!” said the old man. 

Tomas, who accompanied Jules, said the boys 


THE CONSEQUENCES OF BOASTING 

had not been missed for a long time after their de- 
parture. Tomas had saddled Tonito for Jules, 
who had wished to ride the donkey on an errand. 
Jules, not finding the animal hitched as requested, 
supposed that Tomas had refused to oblige him, 
and, growing sulky, scorned to go to the stable to 
see why his request had not been granted; while 
Tomas, supposing that the old man had gone on 
his errand, thought no more of the matter. When 
the truth was learned Senora Velasco had sent to 
Lenoir’s hut to find them, and in an agony of 
dread had directed Guillot, Jules and Tomas to 
search for them. 

‘^But we must not remain here chattering,” cried 
Jules; “we must return at once to our mistress to 
let her know that they are safe.” And without an- 
other word the two men turned and galloped away 
into the night. 

The boys were shown to two tiny rooms, or 
cells, where the beds though narrow were clean, 
and so tired were they that they were asleep almost 
as soon as their heads had touched the pillow. 

By the next morning Brother Francois was as 
benign as usual, and to atone for his severity of the 
previous- evening he showed the boys some parch- 
ment he was illuminating with beautiful letters of 
red and gold. He also showed them some of the 
wealth of his Order, consisting of gold chalices 
set with precious stones, a silver figure of Saint 
Francis and various reliquaries, but the most val- 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

ued of all was a long feather, said to have been 
dropped from the wing of the Angel Gabriel, and 
which at the time was sincerely believed to be gen- 
uine. 

Over the monastery wall climbed grape-vines 
now laden with luscious fruit, each bunch being 
covered by a bag of tissue. “Why do you put those 
bags over the grapes?” asked Fabien of Brother 
Joseph. 

“It is to keep those rascals of birds from steal- 
ing them,” was the reply. 

“Then why do you not preach to the birds and 
tell them to behave?” 

“Ah,” said the old friar, wagging his head, “if 
the blessed Saint Francis were here we should not 
need the bags, for he could influence them; but we 
have not his power.” 

Senora Velasco kissed the boys and wept over 
them, and, while she, too, endeavored to make Fa- 
bien see the error of his ways, she gave him no 
further punishment, considering the mishap a les- 
son that would answer as a warning for the future. 


CHAPTER jXi 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE COUNT 

On the eleventh birthday of the twins Jules took 
pride in preparing a fine dinner, while Senora 
Velasco, yielding to the persuasion of her chil- 
dren, donned the yellow satin gown she had worn 
when a young girl. 

They had danced and sung together; then a 
feeling of sadness had stolen over the three as they 
stood in the evening before the fire in the salon. 
The mother had an arm about each of the chil- 
dren. She bent her dark head over first one and 
then the other, sometimes lifting a hand to smooth 
a golden lock or to pat the rounded cheek of the 
boy or the girl, always pressing them close to her 
side. 

‘Tt may be that years will elapse before you will 
pass another birthday with your mother,” she said 
sadly. “And before many months you will be leav- 
ing me. In four weeks will come the festival of 
Christmas ; then will follow Easter — all too quick- 
ly when one would stay the flight of time — then 
soon my Pedro and my Nilla must go away.” 

Her soft eyes filled with tears and it is probable 
that the three would soon have been weeping to- 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


gather had they not heard the voice of Jules, who 
ushered in a stranger, announcing: “Monsieur le 
Comte de Saint-Victor, who comes to visit Mon- 
sieur Fabien.” 

Senora Velasco released the children and came 
forward with outstretched hand and a smile of 
welcome for the new-comer. 

The Count de Saint-Victor was a tall man, 
dressed in a riding-suit of dark velvet and in his 
hand he held a plumed hat. His hair was cut 
short, after the Spanish style, for Charles the Fifth, 
having been troubled with headache, had ordered 
his hair trimmed, which set the fashion for other 
gentlemen whether they had headache or not; and 
the style was being adopted at the court of France, 
where this gentleman belonged. The count’s hair 
was quite gray, but his eyebrows and his long 
mustache — for he did not wear a beard, although 
it was the prevailing fashion — were black. He 
had white teeth, an engaging smile and a pleasant 
voice and the children liked him at once. He 
bowed low and lifted the hand of Senora Velasco 
to his lips, while she expressed her pleasure in 
welcoming to the castle this guest, who was the 
brother of Fabien’s mother, an uncle of whom she 
often had heard the boy speak in terms of great 
admiration and affection. 

“From accounts sent us by Fabien’s tutor. 
Brother Frangois, the boy seems to be getting on 
famously, so far as his health is concerned ; and I 

Ii8 



Jules ushered in a stranger, announcing ; “ Mons'eur le Comte de 
Saint \’ictor, who comes to visit Monsieur Fabien ” Page Ii8 



THE ARRIVAL OF THE COUNT 


am sure his well-being is entirely owing to the 
kindness of Madame,” — and the count bowed 
again. 

Fabien swaggered into the room at this moment, 
and, after dutifully allowing himself to be kissed 
on both cheeks by his uncle, asked: “Uncle 
Jacques, did you bring me anything?” 

“That always is your first question,” replied his 
uncle, laughing. “Give me a chance first to look 
at you, my nephew. Why, it is phenomenal the 
way the boy has improved! When last I saw him 
he was no broader than a rush, a creature of wax; 
and now look at those fat cheeks, those rounded 
calves, that ruddy color! Madame, it is like the 
breath of life to bask in the sunshine of your 
smile.” 

“It is being out of doors all day long and not 
being kissed to death by a lot of women that has 
made me fat,” said Fabien, “and not anybody’s 
smile that has done it.” 

“My nephew,” said the count, turning to 
Sehora Velasco, “has been very much spoiled. 
The old lady who had charge of him, although 
she kept him in a bandbox, allowed him to say 
what he liked and to do what he pleased, and 
Madame la Marquise, his grandmother, was 
equally indulgent. My boy, when you are older 
you will, I hope, know too much to flout women.” 

“I am not flouting women,” said his nephew. 
“I am fonder of Senora Velasco than of anybody; 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


but for an old man you do say a great many foolish 
things, Uncle Jacques.” 

“My little nephew,” said his uncle good-hu- 
moredly, “I grieve to find that you have not gained 
in politeness as you have in health. You see, 
Madame, my white hairs have made an aged man 
of me at thirty-two. You do not like so elderly a 
man, eh, my little one? — and placing his fingers 
under Petronilla’s chin he looked down at her with 
a smile. 

“We shall like you very much, I am sure,” she 
returned, wishing to place him at his ease. “You 
see, sir, we have always been used to old people. 
Nobody knows how old our Aunt Catalina is, 
Jules, Olympie and Tomas are old, and our 
mother is old also; she is almost twenty-eight, and 
in a little more than two years she will be thirty.” 

Senora Velasco colored and laughed at this re- 
mark, and the count said : 

“You little elf, you should have been made to 
believe that madame is your sister, and who would 
have been the wiser?” 

During this conversation Fabien had been 
standing first on one foot, then on the other, in a 
state of great impatience; then he broke in with: 

“Uncle, if you did not fetch me anything I 
should like to know it, but if you did I want it at 
once, if you please.” 

“Go and ask my servant, who has charge of it,” 
said his uncle. 


120 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE COUNT 

The boy ran from the room and soon returned 
with a book and a very disdainful expression. The 
volume was a very pretty one; it was bound in 
silk and gold, and as such books were rare at the 
time it must have cost a good deal of money. But 
Fabien felt he had been injured. 

“I did not want a book! This is The Song of 
Roland , — what do I care for that? I do not sing, 
and if I did I should not sing such a long song. 
Why did you not bring me a hand-gun or a 
sword?” 

“That book,” said his uncle, “is a tale of the 
time of the great Charlemagne, and it is one of the 
favorite works of my royal master, the King of 
France.” 

“I do not care if it is,” whined Fabien. “The 
King of France already has all the guns and 
swords he wants and he can read sometimes for a 
change.” 

“But it is time you were beginning to care for 
books.” 

“I never shall care for them; I am going to be a 
fighter.” 

“And you look as if you would like to begin the 
practice of your calling at once,” laughed his un- 
cle. “Well, there are some packets sent by. your 
devoted grandmother to you and your little com- 
panions. Ask Pierre if he has not found them.” 

Fabien disappeared, and when he returned his 
face wore a satisfied expression, while he was 
121 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


chewing something which seemed to afford him 
considerable enjoyment. Besides an open package 
in his hand he held two under his arm, of which 
he gave one to Petronilla and the other to Pedro. 

“Grandmother sent us bonbons; she knows what 
I like,” he said. “When I grow up I intend to eat 
bonbons all day long!” 

“To fight and to eat sweets, — truly a life of 
bliss!” said his uncle. 

Although he had intended to stay at the castle 
but two days the Count de Saint-Victor remained 
for a week. The third day it rained, and he said 
he did not like to travel in the rain. It cleared in 
the night, then rained for two more days, and he 
was afraid the streams would be much too high to 
ford. 

“I think my Uncle Jacques is a coward,” said 
Fabien. 

“Why?” asked Pedro. 

“Because he seems to be so afraid of a little bit 
of rain. Why does he not mount his horse and go, 
if he wants to go, and not say, as he does every 
morning, that he will be obliged to give it up until 
to-morrow?” 

“You can not guess what I heard Guillot say to j 
Tomas,” said Petronilla, looking wise. 

“What was it?” asked both boys together. 

“If you will promise never to tell anybody I 
will tell you.” 

Both boys promised breathlessly. 

122 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE COUNT 


“Guillot says that the Count de Saint-Victor is 
in love, so I suppose that is why he stays.” 

‘T can not see what that has to do with it,” said 
Fabien. “If he is so foolish as to fall in love at his 
age, why does he not go away and be married in- 
stead of staying here and looking out of the win- 
dow every morning and shaking his head at the 
weather? My nurse used to tell me tales of fairy 
princes that were in love, and none of them ever 
acted like that.” 

“But I did not tell you all. When Guillot said 
that, Tomas nodded and winked and said the lady 
was not a thousand miles from this castle; and 
Guillot winked, too, and said it would be a fine 
thing for her, and Tomas said nothing was too 
good for her.” 

“But who could it be?” asked Fabien in aston- 
ishment. “There are no young ladies in this 
house.” 

“Not young, really,” said Petronilla, “but I 
suppose you would call her young because she 
never has been married. It can be no one, of 
course, but our Aunt Catalina.” 

“What?” screamed Fabien. “Why, she is too old 
to be married.” 

“I have heard Jules say that no one ever is too 
il old to be married, and I am sure that Aunt Cata- 
I lina’s hair is not so white as your uncle’s — ^when 
you come to hair.” 

“Then if he marries her she will be my auntl” 

i 123 

! 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

cried the boy angrily; “and I won’t have her for 
an aunt, I won’t, I won’t! Why should she want 
to be everybody’s aunt? She shall not be mine, I 
can tell you!” 

“She has been our aunt ever since we were 
born,” said Petronilla with dignity, “and she has 
been our mother’s aunt for a great many years. 
But none of us go on about it like that.” 

“That is because you can not help yourselves. 
You had to take her whether you liked it or not, 
but I am going to begin in time. I am going to tell 
Uncle Jacques that she will lock him in his room 
and put the key in her pocket every time he goes 
away without her permission. I — ” 

“If you say one word about it I shall never tell 
you another thing as long as I live! And, besides 
that, you promised on your honor not to tell.” 

“And you would only make it worse, anyhow,” 
said Pedro. “When the tailor’s daughter ran away 
last winter and married a smuggler, I heard Jules 
say he did not believe she would have done it if 
her family had not opposed the match. So it will 
be better to say nothing to your uncle about it.” 

But Aunt Catalina became an object of senti- 
mental interest to her small niece. She watched 
her and the count as they sat by the fire during the 
rainy afternoons and in the evenings, — the count 
addressing most of his conversation to Sehora Ve- 
lasco as she bent over her embroidery frame, and 
Aunt Catalina sitting up very stiff and straight 

124 


THE ARRIVAL OF THE COUNT 


with hands primly folded, or, strange to say, some- 
times falling asleep and nodding. The little girl 
was very well pleased at the thought of having the 
count for an uncle, for he was so gay and so kind. 

There came a morning when Fabien said: 
‘‘Uncle Jacques, the sun is shining and Tomas says 
the streams are not much higher than they are at 
any time.’’ The boy had an object in wishing his 
uncle to take his departure. If he remained much 
longer there would not be time for him to buy a 
Christmas present and send to his small nephew, — 
Fabien had a keen eye to his own interests. 

So, having no further excuse for remaining, the 
count declared that he must go. The children 
begged him to return at Christmas, an invitation 
which Aunt Catalina seconded; but Sehora Ve- 
lasco said never a word, which her daughter 
thought impolite, not to say unkind. 

But their guest explained that he was about to 
be sent on an important mission to Spain and could 
not return for Christmas; but that when they were 
ready to go to Pau, he might come to take them, 
the marquise having declared that she would 
never travel over so rough a road again. 

So he said good-by, and it was with regret that 
the twins watched him ride down the mountain- 
road. 


125 


CHAPTER XI 


A SIXTEENTH-CENTURY CHRISTMAS 

Ever since they could remember the twins had 
looked upon Jules as the planner of all Christmas 
merrymaking. When they were quite small their 
mother had been too sad to take an interest in any 
kind of festivities and their aunt was too sour of 
disposition to notice the day in any way, save in 
the observance of the religious services. But old 
Jules had always made the season a happy one for 
the children and had practised various customs 
learned in his native province in his youth. 

The very v/ord Christmas has an engaging 
sound, and to those children in the mountains as 
to the small folk of to-day it was the most delight- 
ful time of the year. 

In the first place there was the selecting of the 
Christmas log. Jules must select it himself, of 
course, but the children were always allowed to 
go with him to the wood. Having found a tree 
that pleased him, the old man marked it and at 
midnight he and Tomas went to cut it down; for 
no one ever heard of a Christmas log that was cut 
down in plain matter-of-fact daylight, the mystery 
of midnight being absolutely necessary to make it 

126 


A SIXTEENTH-CENTURY CHRISTMAS 


a success. The spell of the log by no means ended 
when it was a mass of white ashes, for some of 
those ashes were always put away under the bed 
of the master of the house, (and the master here 
was Pedro) ; and when the sound of thunder rever- 
berated through the mountains and lightning 
illuminated the peaks, some of the ashes were cast 
into the fire to prevent the house from being struck 
by a bolt; and Jules often asserted with great pride 
that though lightning had more than once struck 
trees in the vicinity, the castle, under the spell of 
the ashes from the Christmas log, had remained 
unharmed. 

Jules was very busy at this time. There were 
dozens of those queer cakes — called cornaboeux, 
because they were crescent-shaped and curved like 
the horns of an ox — to be baked and given to the 
poor. Then there was another cake to be baked 
for the family, a part of which was to be put away, 
for it never would spoil or get moldy; this was to 
be eaten in case of sickness, being warranted to 
cure every malady known and unknown. No one 
in the castle had ever had occasion to test its 
efficacy as a cure, but it was the old man’s private 
belief that is was the presence of the cake that kept 
sickness at bay. 

All the inmates of the castle watched the light- 
ing of the Christmas log. First Brother Frangois 
sprinkled it with holy water, then Pedro, as the 
male head of the family, kindled it with a torch 
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THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


just as the first bell rang for midnight mass, which 
was always held in the castle chapel. 

Then what a supper there was after the mid- 
night mass! Senora Velasco had invited a few 
friends, and, as this year there was no scarcity of 
money, Jules, bubbling over with delight at being 
able to show what he could do in baking and roast- 
ing, surpassed himself. He was as proud as a 
king when at the end of the repast he was sent for, 
and with great applause a toast was quaffed in his 
honor. 

But the most fascinating feature of the occa- 
sion was the Christmas branch suspended from 
the ceiling and decorated with egg-shells and nuts. 
To the children of to-day, whose trees are trimmed 
with candles and countless glittering ornaments, 
old Jules’ Christmas branch would seem but a 
sorry affair; but it was a splendid thing to the 
Velasco twins, and even Fabien did not withhold 
his admiration of it. 

Two days before, a messenger had arrived 
with a package for Senora Velasco, who merely 
laughed and refused to answer when questioned 
by the children regarding the contents of the bun- 
dle. But now the mystery was solved, for every- 
body about the place received presents from the 
Marquise de Tallanges and the Count de Saint- 
Victor. The children had each a ring set with 
jewels, the boys received guns, and Petronilla a 
pair of violet-velvet shoes slashed with satin, 

128 


A SIXTEENTH-CENTURY CHRISTMAS 


which, though they made her feet look larger 
than they really were, filled her soul with joy. 

From the marquise Senora Velasco received a 
silk robe lined with costly fur, and from the count 
a pair of gloves of perfumed leather embroidered 
with pearls. Gloves of this description were the 
height of fashion, for they were admired by the 
Valois, the reigning family of France. The mar- 
quise presented Aunt Catalina with a fine velvet 
hood and the count sent her a gift which, though 
of little practical use, greatly pleased the old lady. 
It was a fan of painted chicken-skin, and was the 
first folded fan Aunt Catalina ever had seen. The 
Portuguese had brought folded fans from Japan, 
and had extended their use until Catherine de’ 
Medici had introduced them into the court of 
France. It was related that Catherine de’ Medici 
considered the management of the fan a matter so 
important that when she became Queen of France 
she sent one of her ladies-in-waiting to the court of 
Spain to watch Dona Inez de Mendoza when she 
fanned herself, for this lady could flirt her fan in 
ninety-nine different ways. Whether the French 
woman learned them all as she was expected to do 
or whether she recrossed the Pyrenees in a huff 
because she could not learn so deftly to manage 
the toy will never be known. 

But Aunt Catalina did not care to manage or 
even to use her fan; it was the first thing since her 
youth which had been given her merely for beau- 

129 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


ty’s sake and not for use, and she carefully laid it 
away to be treasured for the rest of her life. 

Besides the presents already mentioned, Brother 
Frangois received two gold pieces; and although 
he was not allowed to possess any money of his 
own he was glad to add to the wealth of his Order, 
and was as pleased as if he had kept the gold for 
himself. All the servants received silver pieces; 
there were sweets for everybody; and, taken alto- 
gether, it was the most joyous Christmas the old 
castle had witnessed for many years. 


130 


CHAPTER XII 


THE CHILDREN START ON A JOURNEYi 

As the gentle mother had said, the days passed 
all too quickly and now the time was drawing 
near when her children must leave her. Fabien 
had continued to gain health and strength and 
consequently was much better looking than when 
we first saw him, though he was still far from 
being a handsome boy. The village tailor was 
making clothing for the twins and Aunt Catalina 
was putting stitches of repair in the clothes they 
already possessed, although she was repeatedly 
told by Senora Velasco that at court the children 
could not wear patched or darned clothing, and 
that garments needing such attention must be left 
behind. 

All the village knew that the Velasco twins were 
going to court in a short time and that they would 
be in the care of the Marquise de Tallanges; and 
while many said that it would be the finest thing 
in the world for them, there were a few who shook 
their heads wisely and remarked that the mother 
would regret the day when she allowed her chil- 
dren to go so far from home. 

Although she tried to keep a brave face before 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

Pedro and Pctronilla, Seflora Velasco wept much 
when alone and sometimes they awoke in the night 
to find her sitting beside their beds. 

“I saw our mother sitting in the moonlight be- 
side me,” said Pedro one morning to his sister, 
“and she looked so pale and sad that I believed her 
to be the Mother of Sorrows come down from the 
picture in the chapel.” 

“And she sits beside me until I go to sleep,” 
said his sister, “and last night I said, ‘Please, 
mother dear, do not look so heartbroken, for just 
as soon as Pedro gets a great deal of money at 
court we will come back and build another castle 
a great deal handsomer than this, and you shall 
wear beautiful velvet dresses every day of the 
world.’ ” 

“And that is just what we will do,” said Pedro, , 
“and she will be beautiful in the jewels and other | 
lovely things I intend to buy for her.” j 

At length the Count de Saint-Victor arrived,] 
bringing two litters and accompanied by a num- , 
ber of horsemen ; for not only was it necessary for j 
the children to be provided with means of con-j 
veyance, but it was of great importance that they 
should be guarded while traveling over a road 
infested with robbers. « 

Everybody was glad to see the count again, and! 
he was so delighted to be at the castle once morel 
that he seemed to be in no hurry to begin the trip.f 
His anxiety to delay their departure was some-"| 


ON A JOURNEY 

what exasperating to the children, for where lives, 
or ever has lived, the child who did not want to 
begin a journey at the appointed time? 

‘‘It is too bad that my uncle had to fall in love 
with your aunt,” said Fabien, “for there is no tell- 
ing how long he will want to stay here. Would 
it not be a dreadful thing if they should marry 
and she should go with us?” 

“It would,” agreed Petronilla, “but they are not 
going to be married soon, of that I am sure, for a 
bride always wears a veil and a crown and a lovely 
white gown, and I know Aunt Catalina has noth- 
ing of the kind or I should have seen it.” 

When at last the day came for their departure 
it would be difficult to find a prettier pair of chil- 
dren than were the Velasco twins in their new 
clothes. Petronilla wore a gown of violet taffeta 
with a cunning little close bonnet to match, not 
so close, however, as to conceal entirely her hair, 
for a little curl would peep out here and there in 
spite of the fact that her aunt had tucked it away 
more than once. Pedro was clad in a doublet of 
violet velvet with silk hose that matched it in 
color, and his cap of violet velvet was adorned 
with a long curling white plume. At his side he 
wore his father’s dagger, and there was not a 
prouder boy in the land than Pedro Hernandez 
de Velasco. And what do you think? He at once 
began to be rebellious, for he declared that he 
would not ride in a litter like a woman or an old 
133 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


man. Did the noble Chevalier Bayard go forth 
to seek his fortune in a litter? Not he. Pedro 
determined to ride away as the representative of 
a noble house should travel, and the count laughed 
and said that Pedro should ride by his side, that 
Petronilla and Fabien could ride in one litter and 
7 the other should be left for the Senora Velasco in 
case she should ever want to travel. 

Their mother did not weep as they had expected 
she would do when taking leave of her children. 
On the contrary, there was a look of hope in her 
eyes as she whispered: “It is not for ever, my 
angels, so do not be grieved. I will pray to Saint 
Julian, the patron saint of travelers, to grant you , 
a safe journey, and always remember, whatever | 
happens while we are separated, that your mother 
is praying for you.” 

The twins received at the last moment a present 
from Lenoir. 

“It is for both of you,” he said, “and I hope it 
will amuse you and help to remind you of home.” 
The present was a pretty squirrel in a cage of 
Lenoir’s own making. In the cage was a wheel of 
wood which the little fellow seemed to enjoy 
whirling. The twins were very much pleased with 
this gift and thanked Lenoir over and over again. 

Fabien did not take the whole of his menagerie 
away. It was out of the question to take the St. Ber- j 
nard, which was now no longer a playful puppy, 
but a great, lumbering, full-sized dog. Gris, of 
134 


ON A JOURNEY 

whom the boy was tired, he presented to Jules, 
who had always treated the bird with great con- 
sideration since first he had heard him speak. 
Hour after hour the old man would gaze thought- 
fully at the parrot, and when the bird would make 
a remark that seemed to have no bearing whatever 
upon his present surroundings Jules would nod to 
Olympie and say: “He means something by that, 
mark you! He has been thinking of something 
that worries him and he knows a great deal more 
than he says.” 

Maroc had been elected to stay with his master, 
who, in a fit of caprice, had insisted that the mon- 
key should ride horseback behind Guillot, much 
to that young man’s disgust. To carry a falcon 
on the wrist when riding was a fashionable thing 
to do, but to have a monkey behind one was dis- 
gusting, and Guillot slyly loosened the string in 
the hope that when he was riding under a tree 
Maroc would escape and scamper away to the 
forest. But the simian did nothing of the kind; 
he probably knew when he was well off. 

Fabien graciously agreed that Lenoir’s present 
should travel in the litter with Petronilla and him- 
self. 

When they had received the last embrace from 
their mother, had been pecked on the cheek by 
Aunt Catalina, had listened to showers of bless- 
ings from Tomas, Olympie and Jules, and had 
heard the final kindly admonitions from Brother 
135 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


Francois, the children took their places in the pro- 
cession and began their journey. Until a turn in 
the road shut off their view of the castle they could 
see a white handkerchief waving from one of its 
windows ; it was from the chapel window and the 
twins knew that their mother, as soon as she could 
no longer see them on the road, would invoke for 
them the protection of Saint Julian. 

Pedro, being a boy and ashamed to cry, winked 
very hard to keep back the tears; but Petronilla, 
being a girl, wept profusely. Fabien watched her 
for some time in silence. He wondered if it was 
her intention to cry all day. He hoped not, for 
to be shut in a litter with a crying girl would not 
be pleasant. Finally he said: “Instead of crying 
like that you had better be thinking up a name for 
this squirrel. I always name my pets as soon as I 
get them. I have given him a nut and he knows 
what to do with it, I can tell you.” 

Petronilla raised her head and looked at the 
squirrel. He was sitting up and holding a nut in 
his paws. He looked so cunning in this position 
that she laughed and put away her handkerchief. 

“It is true, he should have a name,” she said. 
“And I do not know what to call him.” 

“Let us name him for a king, — one who is alive 
now,” suggested Fabien. “Let us call him Henry, 
which would be for the King of Navarre and also 
for Henry the Eighth of England.” 

“I do not think Henry is a nice name for a 
136 


ON A JOURNEY 

squirrel and I should not want to name him for 
the King of England,” returned Petronilla. 

“Why not?” 

“Because Tomas told me that King Henry 
chopped off his wife’s head. I would not name a 
pet for any man who would do such a dreadful 
thing.” 

“You talk as if he had chopped it off himself, 
as Jules kills a fowl,” replied Fabien contemptu- 
ously. “He was not near her when it was done; he 
simply ordered it to be done.” 

“What difference does it make whether he did 
it himself or whether he ordered it? It was all 
the same to her.” 

“Henry the Eighth is a great king,” went on 
Fabien. “My grandmother saw him when the two 
kings met on the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and 
she says the English king was fine and handsome.” 

“I do not care if he was,” said Petronilla, “this 
squirrel’s name is not going to be Henry, and you 
can make up your mind to that.” 

“Then name him Francis, after my king; you 
know grandmama and I are going back to France 
some day.” 

“I shall not call him for the King of France.” 

“Now, why won’t you?” 

“Because my mother has told me about him and 
I do not like him at all. He was in prison in 
Spain and in order to be free he gave up his two 
little sons to be put in his place. And the poor 
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THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


little princes had been ill with measles and cared 
for by their aunt, our own queen, who was then in 
France. They were so glad to get out of their sick 
room, — and then right away they had to be shut up 
in prison with no more than a glance at the king, 
their father, who thought of nothing but his own 
liberty. My mother told me this and I know it is 
true.” 

“Women and little girls do not know anything 
about such things. Mademoiselle Petronilla,” said 
Guillot, who was riding close to the litter and had 
overheard the conversation. “It made a great deal 
of difference whether the king was at liberty or 
not, and it did not make any difference about those 
two babies.” 

“They were not babies,” returned the little girl 
stoutly; “the older was eight years old; it mat- 
tered something to you at that age whether you 
were in prison, I know. And my mother told 
me that all the good things the King of France 
ever did were suggested to him by our queen, and 
if that be the case he is not a great king at all, for 
anybody can take advice. I am not going to name 
my squirrel for the King of France.” 

The small animal which had caused this dis- 
pute meantime was munching his nut and appar- 
ently not caring whether he was called Henry, 
Francis, or Alexander the Great. “I know what 
to name him!” cried his mistress suddenly; “I 
shall call him ‘Vif,’ because he is so lively.” 

138 


ON A JOURNEY 

is not my squirrel,” replied Fabien coldly; 
“if he were I never should call him such a silly 
name as that.” 

“Well, he is mine, or, that is, he is half mine, 
and as Pedro always lets me do as I please about 
such things I say his name is Vif.” 

Fabien made no more objections, though he 
wished that Lenoir had given the frisky little ani- 
mal to him, in which case he could have named 
him whatever he liked. A year ago he would have 
argued the matter fiercely and perhaps would 
have taken the squirrel from her by force and 
claimed it for his own; but the benign influence 
of Senora Velasco had not been without its good 
results, and though there still was much to be de- 
sired in his conduct, the last twelve months had 
really seen a great improvement in the little 
marquis. 

Fabien now took a little bag of stones from his 
wallet and began to toss it from one hand to the 
other. “It will now be impossible for me to be 
ill,” he said, “for every one of these stones is good 
for some disease. Tomas was out all yesterday 
afternoon gathering them for me.” 

“He gave a bagful to each of us, for we might 
be separated, you know,” said Petronilla. 

Fabien emptied them into his cap and looked 
the stones over. “That little red stone is the best 
thing in the world for toothache, your mother says, 
and Jules told me that if it had not been for that 
139 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


brown stone he knows he would have had rheu- 
matism long ago.” 

‘‘That is true,” said Petronilla. “You see, Tomas 
has traveled a great deal, for he used to be a sol- 
dier, and he knows all about such things; so if 
you will keep the stones he gave you, you will be 
all right.” 

Children who read this will smile at the simple 
belief that just a stone that could not be taken 
inwardly, applied externally or used in any way 
except to be carried in the pocket, could cure dis- 
ease. But in the sixteenth century this superstition 
was not confined to women and children and ser- 
vants. Charles the Fifth, King of Spain and one of 
the wisest monarchs in Christendom, carried about 
with him a stone incrusted with gold to stop the 
flow of blood, a blue stone for the gout, a bazoar 
stone from the Orient to cure various maladies, 
and a philosopher’s stone, which was supposed to 
cure everything and to make its happy possessor 
live for ever. As the philosopher’s stone was 
expected to do all that could be accomplished by 
the other stones with additional improvements on 
its own account, one wonders why he needed the 
others. And we know that the gout finally carried 
him off in spite of the blue stone, which, ably 
assisted by the philosopher’s stone, was expected 
to pay particular attention to that malady. 

As the sun climbed higher in the heavens our 
travelers began to grow hungry, and they stopped 

140 


ON A JOURNEY 

at a queer little wayside inn like a peasant’s cot, 
where they partook with a relish of cheese, black 
bread and milk. 

The most enchanting of journeys grows weari- 
some at the close of the day and the children were 
not sorry when at nightfall they rode into the 
courtyard of an inn of some pretensions to size and 
comfort. As Count de Saint-Victor lifted Petro- 
nilla to the ground, he said: “You must be your 
own tiring-woman for to-night, little one. To- 
morrow we shall join the Marquise de Tallanges 
at the chateau, where she is stopping with a friend, 
and she will provide some one to take care of 
you.” 

“Oh, I do not need a waiting-woman,” said the 
little girl. “I have dressed myself and combed my 
own hair for a great many years.” 

The count laughed. “You are quite an old lady, 
it seems.” He put his hand under her chin and 
raised her face. “In spite of those glinting locks 
which do not seem to belong to you, you are very 
like some one I know.” 

“And some one I know, too?” asked the little 
girl. 

“One whom we both know — and love,” he 
added, as if to himself. 

“He means my aunt,” thought Petronilla. “No 
one ever said that I look in the least like her, and 
I do not see why he should think I love her be- 
cause he does.” 

141 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


The servants were rushing about to prepare for 
the accommodation of the new arrivals, and as 
the two boys entered the main room together they 
noticed that a man who had been seated at the 
farther end of it rose from his chair and slouched 
from the apartment. In his excitement, Pedro gave 
Fabien such a pinch that the latter howled. 

“What made you do that?” asked the little mar- 
quis angrily. 

“Hush!” whispered Pedro. “Did you notice the 
man who just went out, — the one with the red sash 
twisted about his waist?” 

“No, I did not, and why should I?” asked 
Fabien sulkily. 

“I caught only a glimpse of his face,” whispered 
Pedro; “but from what I saw of him, I am almost 
sure it was the man who tied us to the tree that day 
in the forest.” 

“Let us tell Uncle Jacques to make him give 
up my medal and then shoot him!” said Fabien, 
who did not believe in half-measures. 

The count listened attentively to what Pedro 
had to say, but he was inclined to think that the 
boy was mistaken. “Did you get a good view of 
his face?” he asked. 

“I saw only the left side. If I had seen the right 
side I should have known surely, for he had a 
scar from his temple to his chin. But he was 
dressed just like him and he wore a red sash.” 

“Red sashes are not uncommon, my boy; but 

142 


ON A JOURNEY 

come with me to the courtyard and if you see him 
anywhere about I will make the rascal sorry for 
the way he treated you.” 

Their search proved unavailing, for no such 
man could be found. A stable-boy said a man had 
just ridden away, but was uncertain regarding the 
appearance of the departing guest. No one had 
observed him specially, and when asked about the 
scar the landlord thought it possible ; the stranger 
had come in with a number of others and he had 
scarcely glanced at him, but a scar was not a rare 
sight in those days when all men were accustomed 
to fight with sword or dagger. Anyhow, it ap- 
peared that the man with the scar had gone away 
for good, and it did not seem worth while to 
search further for him. 


143 


CHAPTER XIII 


PEDRO AND THE CONTRABANDISTA 

Never before had Pedro Velasco felt so proud 
and so grown-up. After supper he strolled out of 
the house and wandered alone in the moonlight 
down the path that led to the highroad. Ordinarily 
he would have felt a little bit timid about going 
so far alone at night, for one is not a man at 
eleven, when all is said and done; but he felt that 
a boy who could go out into the world to make a 
fortune for himself and his family should not be 
afraid of shadows. He was quite sure that the 
Chevalier Bayard had not been afraid of anything 
visible or invisible, when he had left his home 
to try his luck at earning name and fame. 

It was a very fair and lovely night. The rim of 
the moon could be seen through the trees and a 
light breeze made the shadows dance across the 
path, while in a bush near-by a nightingale was 
singing as if he poured out all his joys and griefs 
in song. Pedro wished that his sister and Fabien 
had come with him instead of going to bed like 
babies as soon as they had finished supper. Then 
he remembered that the Count de Saint-Victor 
supposed him to be this minute asleep by Fabien’s 
144 


PEDRO AND THE CONTRABANDISTA 


side, and he had promised to obey the count in all 
things. 

He turned to go back, when a strange thing 
happened. Something large, like the wings of an 
enormous bat, enveloped him from head to foot, 
muffling him in such a way that his cry of fright 
was smothered into a faint murmur; then he was 
seized and carried away by some one on horseback. 

The boy struggled with all his might, still striv- 
ing to make himself heard, when a harsh voice 
said: “Keep still, or you will regret it. If you 
will be quiet not a hair of your head shall be 
touched and you shall be restored unharmed to 
your friends. I can not hold you if you struggle 
like that and — well, there are plenty of cliffs where 
a boy might be dropped over and the world be 
none the wiser.” 

The effect of this speech was to make Pedro 
keep very quiet indeed. But he did a great deal 
of thinking. Count de Saint-Victor would not 
know of his absence until morning, and where 
would Pedro be by that time? What could this 
man want with him? He could not be robbed, for 
there was nothing to take; he had left his purse, 
containing two bright gold pieces, with his father’s 
dagger, on the table in his room, for he had begun 
to undress when the notion had seized him to 
wander for a little while in the moonlight and 
enjoy his independence. Why should any one want 
to take him from his friends? If robbery had been 

X45 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


the motive the man could have looked for his 
purse and then left him on the spot v^here he had 
found him; and there was no other advantage to 
be gained from this unreasonable carrying-off of 
a boy against his will. 

After what seemed to be a very long time the 
horse stopped and Pedro could hear men’s voices. 
The cover was taken from his head, but he could 
see very little save a few shadowy forms, the moon 
being behind a cloud. 

“Trapped him already, eh?” asked a voice that 
seemed familiar. “Did you send the message to 
get him out, as I told you?” 

“Not necessary,” said Pedro’s captor, letting the 
boy slip to the ground. “He came out of his own 
accord, just as if he had been expecting me, and I 
carried him away as easily as ever I smuggled a 
cask of rum.” 

“Well done, Diego! This shall not be forgotten 
when we obtain the ransom. Your doting grand- 
mother and your own estate are good for a great 
many thousand crowns, are they not, my little 
Marquis?” 

“I do not know what you mean,” returned the 
boy wonderingly ; “I am not a marquis.” 

“Oh, no, you are nothing now but a peasant lad; 
but the day we rode together you were a nobleman 
with your purse filled with gold. You talked of 
Madame la Marquise, your grandmother, and of 
the money she possessed.” 

146 


PEDRO AND THE CONTRABANDISTA 

“You are the man who tied us in the forest,” 
said Pedro ; and his heart became as heavy as lead. 

“Yes, Monsieur, at your service,” replied the 
man mockingly. 

“Please let me go! I have nothing for you to 
take, for I left everything in my room that you 
would want.” 

“Bah! a jeweled chain or such a matter is a 
mere bagatelle to me in comparison to what I 
shall get from your noble grandmother.” 

“I do not know what you mean. I have no 
grandmother. I believe you think I am Fabien. 
But I am not; I am Pedro Velasco, and there is 
no money in my family for anybody.” 

The man gave vent to an exclamation of wrath. 
“Did you bring the wrong boy?” he asked furi- 
ously. 

“I brought the boy I thought was the marquis,” 
replied the other; “strike a fire and see for your- 
self.” 

A fire of dry sticks was kindled and as the flame 
leaped up the man saw, not Fabien, the heir to a 
great fortune, whom he fondly hoped to have cap- 
tured, but Pedro Velasco, the heir to almost noth- 
: ing at all. 

The man with the scar was so angry that Pedro 
II trembled lest he should slay him in his fury, but 
j his wrath seemed to be vented against the boy’s 
Ij captor. “After all our planning you have brought 
I! the wrong one,” he said, “and now you have put 


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them on their guard and we never can succeed in 
what we intended to do!” 

“I thought it was the right boy,” replied Diego 
sulkily. ‘‘The other one was a very common-look- 
ing chap, but this one looked like a marquis.” 

“You should not have depended upon looks,” 
roared the other, “you should have inquired. Have 
you not a tongue in your stupid head?” 

Diego answered hotly and from words they fell 
to blows. In the encounter the man with the scar 
received decidedly the worst of it, to Pedro’s secret 
satisfaction. 

The boy hoped that now, when they found there 
was nothing to be gained by keeping him, they 
would return him to his friends, and his heart 
sank when the man with the scar said: “Now that 
we have the little popinjay we might as well keep 
him. Perhaps his mother will be able to pay 
something for his ransom.” 

In vain Pedro protested, declaring that it would 
be impossible for his mother to pay a ransom. He 
was told to keep silent, which command was ac- 
companied by a threat of violence. Soon they all 
lay down on the ground to sleep, one of their num- 
ber, called Antonio, being appointed to watch 
their small prisoner to see that he did not escape 
on one of the horses in the night. 

Antonio was not an unkind sentinel. He folded 
a long cloak so that a part of it answered for a 
couch and part for a cover for the boy and sat 

148 


PEDRO AND THE CONTRABANDISTA 


down beside him to keep watch as ordered to do 
by the chief of the band. The small prisoner was 
too unhappy to sleep. What would the Count de 
Saint-Victor do in the morning when he found 
one of his small charges missing? And Petronilla 
would go almost mad with grief, he was sure. He 
hoped they could keep the news from his mother 
as long as possible, and find his ransom money in 
some other way. And she had prayed to Saint 
Julian for his safety, poor mother! 

Pedro’s meditations were interrupted by a hand 
laid on his arm, and the sentinel whispered, “Do 
not go to sleep. When I am sure that the others 
are wrapped in slumber, you may come with me.” 

The boy’s heart almost smothered him, it beat 
so hard from pure joy. He had felt that Antonio 
looked upon him kindly from the first and now 
he was going to help him to escape! 

Soon all the men were snoring and, taking the 
boy gently by the hand, Antonio led him to where 
the horses had been fastened for the night. 

Mounting one of them, he told Pedro to get 
behind him, and, riding slowly at first until they 
were out of earshot, they urged the horse to a gal- 
lop as soon as they reached the road. 

After a while Antonio said: “I am doing some- 
thing that would be very dangerous to me were I 
to return to that band again, but I never shall go 
back, for I am off to the wars. I am going to take 
you back to your friends. Can you guess why?” 

149 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

Pedro said he could not guess, unless it was 
because Antonio wished to be kind. 

The man laughed. “I have not often done things 
just to be kind, but I never forget a kindness done 
to me. One night about six years ago I got an 
ugly wound in the leg, by whom or for what I 
will not tell you — for I am not a saint, you must 
know, and have risked my life many times. I 
went on my way as best I could, afraid that I 
should die from loss of blood, and, seeing a light 
in the windows of a castle, I knocked at the 
kitchen door. An old servant was about to dis- 
miss me with some bread and meat, when a beau- 
tiful lady came into the kitchen with two little 
children at her side. The lady noticed my pale 
face and called me as I was about to close the door, 
for I was afraid she would suspect who I was, 
and I am not a man that many people would care 
to shelter. 

“ ‘You are ill, you are suffering, my friend,’ she 
said in the softest voice I ever heard. ‘Come in 
and let me see what I can do for you.’ 

“I gladly obeyed her, you may be sure, and, 
making me take a chair, she examined the wound 
and dressed it with her own pretty hands, her two 
little children standing behind her and peering 
at me with their large, solemn eyes. That lady 
was your mother, — you were one of the little 
children.” 

“I knew it was my mother!” said the boy with 
150 


PEDRO AND THE CONTRABANDISTA 


a catch in his breath ; “you sec, it was so like my 
mother to do that.” 

“Not only did she care for my immediate 
wants,” went on the man, “she asked me to stay 
until I was better, and she did not ask me any 
questions. To her I was a poor human being in 
trouble and she was kind to me as an angel would 
be. Hers was almost the first act of kindness I 
had ever received, and I never have forgotten it. 
When I saw your face and heard your name I 
knew at once that you were the son of the lady 
who had befriended me, and I resolved to repay 
her by returning you to your friends.” 

Who can tell how even trivial events may shape 
themselves? Senora Velasco was accustomed to 
care for the sick and needy without a thought of 
reward, and little did she imagine when she ten- 
derly nursed the outlaw simply because he was a 
suffering fellow creature that she was indirectly 
serving the golden-haired boy who stood by her 
side. 

“I do not understand,” said Pedro after a while, 
“how the man with the scar knew we were going . 
to be at the inn.” 

“He heard in the village that you were going 
away and when you expected to go, and we had 
planned to make quite a sum of money out of the 
old marquise.” 

“Why did he not keep Fabien when he had him 
that day in the forest?” 


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“Because he had not thought about it before- 
hand and there was none of his band near to assist 
him.” 

Kidnapping people of wealth and holding them 
for ransom was not uncommon, as Pedro knew, 
and he realized that wealth as well as poverty has 
its disadvantages. 

The gray of dawn was stealing over the earth 
as they reached the inn and Antonio said, as the 
boy slipped to the ground: “Now run along to 
your friends, and may good luck go with you!” 
And before the boy could utter a word of thanks 
the outlaw put spurs to his horse and was gone. 

The servants were up and at work, and the inn- 
keeper was bustling about, giving orders here and 
there and scolding a good deal. He stared at the 
pale and somewhat frowzy boy who entered at that 
hour of the morning. 

“Rather early for you to be up and out, is it not, 
my little man?” he asked. “Where is the small 
marquis?” 

“In bed, I suppose. I have been captured by 
smugglers, or robbers, because they thought I was 
Fabien.” And Pedro related the particulars of his 
adventures. 

The landlord was not indignant; he was com- 
pletely and thoroughly disgusted. “I never heard 
of such a stupid thing in my life,” he said. “The 
man who made that blunder ought to stay at home 
and scour pots and pans. Why did he not find out 
152 


PEDRO AND THE CONTRABANDISTA 


first which was the right boy, before he carried 
anybody off? Such idiocy is inexcusable!” 

It seemed to Pedro that the innkeeper had not 
grasped the point of the matter. To him the rob- 
ber’s sin was not in taking the wrong boy but in 
taking any boy, and he watched mine host curious- 
ly as the latter took up an ale-mug and set it down 
on the table again very hard, looking as if he 
wished it had been somebody’s head. An older 
person would have suspected that the innkeeper 
had been in the plot and had expected a share of 
the spoils, but Pedro was only puzzled. 

Mine host, however, seemed to view the matter 
in quite a different light by the time he had dis- 
cussed it with the Count de Saint-Victor. He de- 
clared that this crime of capture for ransom was 
growing entirely too common of late. At this rate 
things would soon arrive at such a pass that any 
honest man, who was known to have put by a few 
crowns for his old age, would be unsafe on his own 
doorstone, for the country was full of those Span- 
iards who, not content with smuggling, must 
^ needs, in their greedy quest of booty, disturb 
peaceable travelers on the king’s highway. 

Fabien urged his uncle to find the rascals and 
kill every one of them. “J^st think what they 
wanted to do to me!” he said. 

But the count replied that it would be useless to 
pursue the men, even were he prepared for such an 
expedition, as by this time they had no doubt 
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THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


sought their places of retreat in the mountains. 
^‘You should remember, Fabien,” he added, “it is 
your fault that all this has happened. Brother 
Francois told me of your boastful words when you 
first made the acquaintance of the leader of this 
band, and of how you endeavored to make an im- 
pression by your rank and wealth.” 

“What is the good of having it if you can not 
talk about it?” grumbled his nephew. 

“Wealth is to be used wisely and not to be 
bragged about, while noble blood should show it- 
self by acts and not by boastful words which 
cheapen it,” replied the count, adding more kind- 
ly: “But perhaps you should not be blamed so 
much, after all, for you are not, as Pedro is, 
blessed with a wise and saintly mother to guide 
you in all that you do.” 

“To hear him talk,” remarked Fabien, when his 
uncle had gone to give directions regarding their 
departure, “anybody would think that you and 
Nilla were the only people who ever had a 
mother! I believe that he is kinder to you than he 
is to me, and it is because he is going to marry 
your aunt.” 

“He is kind to us because he is good to every- 
body,” said Petronilla. “I love him very much and 
I am glad he is going to be my uncle.” 


154 


CHAPTER XIVj 

PETRONILLA AND THE MYSTERIOUS WORD 

Toward nightfall of the following day our party 
came in sight of a large mansion, or chateau, with 
battlemented walls and moat and drawbridge, for 
at this period people of rank and wealth were 
obliged to protect themselves from attack from 
every quarter and wished their houses to be as 
strong as forts. So moats, or deep ditches, were 
made around the buildings, and when the draw- 
bridge was turned the inmates of the chateau were 
comparatively safe. 

Petronilla was very glad when they had crossed 
the drawbridge, for she felt that here they would 
be safe from the outlaws; for, in spite of all that 
the count could say to comfort her, she had been 
fearing all day they would suddenly appear and 
recapture her beloved brother. 

It was a great pleasure to see the good old mar- 
quise again. The old lady not only kissed and em- 
braced her grandson until he ungraciously wrig- 
gled out of her grasp, but she kissed Pedro and 
Petronilla on both cheeks and vowed that they 
were even more beautiful than when she last had 
seen them. 


155 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

The Countess de Fleury, who was a lifelong 
friend of the marquise, was a tall lady with gray 
hair and was as much too thin as the marquise was 
too stout. She greeted the twins kindly and was 
much surprised to see that they bore so startling a 
resemblance to each other. She made them stand 
back to back, and, finding they were of exactly the 
same height, said it was because Petronilla was 
tall for a girl of her age, while the marquise good- 
naturedly insisted that it was owing to the fact that 
Pedro was small for his age. There were other 
ladies and a number of gentlemen in the company 
and the argument became general. Thus sur- 
rounded with chattering and laughter, the twins 
blushed very red at being the objects of so much 
attention; and when a pretty lady, declaring that 
whether or not he was too small for his age Pedro 
was the prettiest boy she ever had looked upon, 
kissed him on the forehead, that small gentleman 
lowered his eyes until his long lashes swept his 
cheeks, while the hot blood went to the very tips 
of his ears. “I will wait for you and you shall 
marry me when you grow up,” said the lady. 

“Then I shall wait for the sister,” said one of 
the gentlemen. “Will you take me for a suitor 
when you are grown up, my pretty one?” 

The girl was less easily embarrassed than the 
boy. She looked at her questioner and thought- 
fully shook her head. “You will be too old for me 
and I do not like old men; or at least, I should not 
156 


PETRONILLA AND THE WORD 

like to marry one. I think you will marry the lady 
who said she would wait for Pedro.” 

This reply was followed by a burst of laughter 
from the entire company save the pretty lady, who 
blushed and looked very much confused. But the 
gentleman said, “Truly, my little maid, you are 
an oracle!” 

Petronilla felt that she had made a blunder, but 
she did not know in just what way and she was 
glad when the maid conducted her to her apart- 
ment. 

The well-furnished room now occupied by 
Petronilla seemed to the little girl to be good 
enough for a queen and was a great contrast to her 
room at home, with the little couch beside which 
her mother had so often watched during the past 
weeks. The thought of her mother brought a 
lump into her throat, for it seemed to the little 
girl that they had been separated for ages, though 
it was only yesterday they had parted. 

The maid went out and soon reappeared with a 
little gown of light blue silk, which she said was 
for Petronilla. 

“It is very pretty,” said the child, “but I am 
sorry to change my gown, for my brother has 
nothing like it and we always wear the same colors. 
It will seem strange to us to be different.” 

“Do not distress yourself about that, my little 
lady,” said the smiling maid. “You will find that 
your brother, too, has changed the color of his cos- 
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THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


tumc, for Madame la Marquise is anxious for you 
to be as much alike as possible.” 

While the maid parted and brushed her soft 
hair Petronilla’s mind reverted to the remark she 
had made to the young gentleman down stairs, and 
the more she thought about it the more troubled 
she became. Her mother had cautioned her not to 
let her tongue run away with her prudence, and 
here at the very first opportunity she had been 
entirely too pert. The gentleman must have 
thought so, for he had called her a name which 
she never had heard and the meaning of which 
she did not know. “Oracle,” — what could the 
word mean? It must be another term for imperti- 
nence. Petronilla asked the maid, but she was un- 
educated and shook her head. “Perhaps it was the 
name of a branch of your family, and the gentle- 
man had traced a resemblance in your features,” 
suggested the maid. 

“No, that could not be,” replied Petronilla. 
“None of our family ever had such a name, or I 
should have heard my mother or my Aunt Cata- 
lina mention it.” 

“Perhaps your brother would know the mean- 
ing of the word.” 

“No, Pedro knows just as much as I do and just 
the things that I know.” 

“Well, I hope it means nothing very bad,” said 
the maid; “but I am afraid that it does. I do not 
like the sound of it, somehow. You must have done 
158 


PETRONILLA AND THE WORK 


something very naughty and have been very dis- 
obedient to have made him call you such a thing.” 

‘T did not think it was so bad. A lady said she 
was going to marry Pedro when he grows up and 
a gentleman said he would marry me; and I said I 
thought they would marry each other.” 

“Well I No wonder he called you an oracle ! Do 
you not know that you should not talk about their 
marriage to people’s very faces?” 

“He talked about marrying me and that would 
be my marriage, would it not? Did I not have 
just as good a right to talk to him about his mar- 
riage?” 

“Oh, that was different. He was just in fun, you 
see.” 

“I do not think he was a bit kind,” said the little 
girl, wiping her eyes. “He had no right to jest 
with me and as soon as I answered what I thought 
was right to call me an oracle! I am going to tell 
the Count de Saint-Victor all about it and he will 
take my part, I am sure of it.” 

As soon as she was dressed I etronilla started for 
the great drawing-room, and much to her delight 
she was joined in the hall by the count, who also 
was on his way down stairs. 

“What a dainty fairy!” cried the count, taking 
her by the hand and turning her about to get a 
view of her gown. “Would that your mother 
could see you now!” 

“I want so much to ask you something,” said she 
159 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

shyly, still clinging to his hand. “I — I — have a 
trouble that I want to tell you about.” 

“Let us take a seat on this top step and together 
we will smooth it all out. But first let us protect 
the finery.” He took a fine handkerchief from his 
pocket and spread it on the step, and then bade 
Petronilla sit down. 

Then, leaning her arm on his knee in the most 
confiding manner, the little girl related the cause 
of her anxiety. “And I do not think it was a bit 
kind of him to call me such a thing,” she con- 
cluded. 

“Why do you object to being called an oracle?” 
asked the count, laughing. “Most people would 
be proud of the title.” 

“Does it not mean something bad?” 

“Not at all. You know who the ancient Greeks 
were, do you not?” 

“Yes, Monsieur le Comte, Brother Francois . 
told us about them.” 1 

“The Greeks had oracles or statues which they 
consulted upon all occasions when they wanted to 
know what was going to happen. They thought, ! 
you see, that their gods spoke to them through the j 
mouths of these figures and that whatever they said j 
was sure to come true. So when Monsieur de Lisle 
told you that you were an oracle when you predict- 
ed his marriage with the young lady, he meant that 
that event certainly would happen; and, indeed, 
it is no news to any one who knows them. So now 

i6o 


PETRONILLA AND THE WORD 


your mountain is swept away and is not even a 
mole-hill!” 

Petronilla drew a sigh of relief. ‘T am glad it 
was nothing bad,” she said, “but mama would 
not have liked for me to answer in that way, I 
think.” 

“Do as your beautiful mother advises about all 
things,” replied the count, “and you will always 
do just what is right.” 

“She is beautiful,” said the child wistfully; “she 
is prettier than any of the ladies here, I think.” 

“A thousand times more beautiful,” returned 
the count earnestly. 

The long oak table in the dining-room, at which 
the guests sat on stools and benches, seemed to 
creak beneath its weight of good things. There 
was roast kid, which at that time was so much es- 
teemed that dishonest butchers sometimes sold 
lamb as kid, and there was an enormous thrush- 
pie, though it seemed a crime that the little song- 
sters should be thus hushed for ever. There were 
the first pease the twins ever had seen, for that veg- 
I etable was deemed a royal dish and was little 
1 known; it was cooked with salt pork. There were 
, wild strawberries, for not yet was that delicious 
! fruit cultivated in the garden, nor did the berries 
i have that rich fragrance which now clings to our 
I fingers when we pick them from the vine, being 
I simply a red, sweet berry and nothing more. In 
the chateau gardens there were now being culti- 


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vated melons which were called “sucrins,” be- 
cause sugared water was poured over them while 
they were growing, to make them sweet! 

After dinner there was dancing in a great hall, 
decorated with Flemish tapestry. The gentleman 
whose remark had so worried Petronilla asked her 
to dance, and although she was afraid she could 
not manage the step he led her through the figure, 
always taking her hand at the right time so that 
she made no mistakes. And Petronilla thought 
dancing the loveliest pastime in the world, espe- 
cially when accompanied by such instruments as 
hautboys. Between the dances refreshments were 
served, consisting of sugared fruits handed about 
in silver dishes by pages. 

As Pedro noted the richly-dressed ladies and 
gentlemen and heard the merry laughter about 
him he could scarcely believe that it was only last 
night he had been carried away by outlaws. 

Fabien, to whom such scenes were not so novel, 
became sleepy and cross, but was cheered by the 
candied fruit. His admiring grandmother could 
scarcely keep her eyes from his face. “He always 
was a pretty dear,” she said to a lady beside her, 
“but now he is handsome as a picture, and so 
healthy. I can only repay that dear Senora Velas- 
co’s kindness by my care of her own children.” 

“Is it always as gay among great people as it was 
to-night, Guillot?” asked Pedro as the valet ac- 
companied the two boys to their rooms. 

162 


PETRONILLA AND THE WORD 


“If you had lived ai the court of France you 
v/ould not think this anything at all,” replied 
Guillot loftily. “The king thinks of some new 
amusement every hour; the whole court travels 
from palace to palace and, what with jousts and 
dancing, there is nothing like it.” 

“How happy they must be!” said the boy. 

“Oh, as to happiness, that is quite another thing! 
Happiness is far more evenly divided in this world 
than you would think possible. Great ladies have 
troubles which almost break their hearts: their 
husbands, brothers, or sons are killed in battle or 
combat, while the gentlemen are worried by envy 
or troubles in money matters, for a coat of velvet 
f and gold does not always mean a fat purse, by any 
means. So far as real joy goes, you perhaps had as 
much of it back there in that old owl’s roost of a 
castle as you will ever know among the great. But 
you did not know what it was to live; you were 
simply vegetables.” 


CHAPTER XVj 


“the marguerite of marguerites” 

The court of Navarre spent the winters at Pau 
and went to Nerac, a city farther north, for the 
summer. But this year the queen, who had been 
suffering from a troublesome cough, wished to 
prolong her stay beyond the spring months. 

The children experienced a sensation of awe 
when they came in sight of the city, where lived 
the king and queen. Situated on a cliff it seemed to 
frown down upon the valley below, where that 
merry little river, the Gave, dashed under the 
quaint bridges with as much noise and impatience 
as if it had been a stream of great consequence. 

Up the narrow road they went until they 
reached the palace, for the marquise, being one of 
the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, lived under the same 
roof with her Majesty. Their first impression as 
they entered and were on their way to their own 
apartments was of a bewildering array of pictures, 
tapestry and beautiful furniture, for it has been 
said that few palaces of the sixteenth century pos- 
sessed a finer collection of such treasures than this 
winter home of the Kings of Navarre. 

And now the children were dressed with greater 
164 


THE MARGUERITE OF MARGUERITES 


care than ever. A gown of peach-colored bro- 
caded satin fell in shining folds to Petronilla’s 
satin-shod feet, while her brother was clothed 
in a doublet , and hose of the same shade. Fabien 
wore blue, which made him look quite sallow, 
but his grandmother, looking at the children with 
pride, said: ‘T do not believe that three prettier 
children can be found anywhere throughout the 
kingdoms of France and Navarre!” 

“Pedro’s hair is long and curls like a girl’s; 
mine is short as the King of France wears his,” 
said Fabien. 

“Pedro’s hair is as his mother likes it and I shall 
make no change in it, especially as it makes his re- 
semblance to his sister still more striking. But as 
you are a gentleman of France, my darling, it is 
right that you should wear your hair in the fashion 
of the French court,” said the marquise. 

“And when my beard grows, which I hope will 
be before very long, I shall wear it pointed as the 
king does,” said Fabien in a satisfied tone. 

“How soon shall we see the queen, Madame?”’ 
asked Petronilla timidly. 

“Are you impatient to see her?” asked the mar- 
quise good-naturedly. 

“Oh, yes, Madame! I do want to see a real 
queen so much, and most of all, our own queen, 
for she is better than all the rest of them.” 

“That is a loyal little soul, — and I think she is 
speaking the truth, too,” murmured the marquise. 

165 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


Aunt Catalina once saw the Queen of 
Spain,” went on Petronilla, “and she said that 
looking at her face was like getting very close to 
the sun. Do you think, Madame, that we shall see 
our queen to-day?” 

“I see no reasba why you and your brother 
should not wait in the long corridor, where her 
Majesty will soon pass on her way from the 
chapel.” ^ 

“Let Pedro go with me,” said Fabien; “I am j 
going with Guillot to see the soldiers drill.” : 

“Pedro is going to remain with his sister; I * 
want her Majesty to see them together,” said the i 
marquise with more firmness than she usually dis- | 
played toward her grandson. ' 

Then the twins were conducted down a grand i 
staircase, on the ceilings of which were medal- | 
lions of the king and queen and their initials H j 
and M intertwined on the walls. They were then 1 
told to sit in two high-backed chairs in the corri- 1 
dor, from which they were not to move until her i 
Majesty appeared, when they were to rise and i 
kneel as instructed. 

At first the children amused themselves by look- 
ing about them. A round window of colored glass 
glowed like a jewel in the opposite wall, and 
hanging beneath it was a piece of tapestry which 
told the story of poor inquisitive Psyche, choosing 
the moment when that unreasonable young worn- , 
an, anxious to see the face of the man she had 
166 


THE MARGUERITE OF MARGUERITES 


married, was gazing at her sleeping husband. The 
little maid stood, lamp in hand, doubtless almost 
overcome with ecstasy at beholding the beauty of 
her lover, though his face as here depicted was 
not calculated to inspire rapture, being very pink 
and somewhat swollen. A drop of oil embroidered 
in red (probably to show that it was hot) was 
about to fall from the lamp to his face, and the 
twins, to whom Brother Frangois had told the 
story, knew just what he would do when the oil 
struck his nose, which it seemed sure to do. This 
piece of tapestry looked very old and quite faded 
in places and Petronilla thought it odd when 
everything else was so handsome that the tapestry 
should be so shabby. 

Pedro began to grow tired after a while and to 
wriggle about. “I wish I had gone with Fabien 
to see the soldiers,” said he. “I was in no hurry to 
see the queen; Fabien says she is only a woman.” 

‘‘You would not want to leave me here all alone, 
would you?” asked his sister. 

“You need not be here yourself, for that matter. 
You could have remained with Madame la Mar- 
quise.” 

“Then I might not have seen the queen so soon.” 

“That does not matter; she would not vanish, 
like a blanquette from the mountain peak. You 
could see her to-morrow or the day after.” 

His sister made no reply;)she did not feel par- 
ticularly happy at this moment. It was very quiet 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

and dreary here, she thought, and a sensation of 
homesickness came over her. There were voices in 
the distance, but no one came near them. A clock 
somewhere struck the hour in muffled tones as if it 
were afraid to express itself too freely, so differ- 
ent from the honest old castle clock which cor- 
dially arid fearlessly bellowed its announcements. 
She tried to entertain herself by smoothing the 
folds of her gown and by contemplating the tips 
of her peach-colored shoes. Then she remembered 
that Brother Frangois had often told her that she 
should not give too much thought to mere clothes, 
which serve to adorn only the perishable body, but 
that she should rather think of doing all in her 
power to beautify her soul. 

“I wish the queen would come and get it over 
with,” said Pedro restlessly. 

“I think she will surely pass by pretty soon 
now,” said Petronilla. 

“How shall we know her when she does come?” 
he asked. 

“Oh, that will be easy enough. She will have a 
long robe lined with ermine and she will wear a 
glittering crown.” 

Pedro took his hat from the floor and twirled it 
on the tips of his fingers until its white plume 
looked like a mass of foam. 

“Do not do that; you will spoil it,” said his sister. 

“I do not think a palace is at all a pleasant place 
to be in,” grumbled the boy, dropping his head- 

168 


THE MARGUERITE OF MARGUERITES 


gear to the floor. ‘‘Your clothes are too fine to be 
happy in and there is nothing to do but sit in 
a corridor and wait for a queen to pass along. I 
wish I were at home in my old brown cloth suit! 
Would not it be fine if we could slip in and sur- 
prise them all this very moment?” 

Petronilla nodded; it was dangerous to try to 
speak at present. 

“I know just what they are all doing at this 
hour,” went on the boy. “Tomas has taken Tonito 
for fagots and has stopped to gossip with, Lenoir. 
Olympie is thinking about supper, for she always 
begins to think about it first. Aunt Catalina is 
saying her beads and our mother is busy with her 
needle.” 

“She is working at that lovely cope,” said Petro- 
nilla, “and as she works her tears are falling on 
the seed pearls as they did the day before we left 
home. Oh, why did we not tell her before it was 
too late that we wanted to stay at home with her 
for ever!” 

“It would have made no difference. She had 
promised madame, and our mother never breaks 
her word.” 

“Then, why did you not tell her in the first place 
that you would not leave home? I had to come 
i because you came. It is all your fault that we are 
! here,” said his sister, feeling the melancholy com- 
!j fort many of us experience in blaming some one 
1 else for our woes. 


169 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


‘‘You know quite well why I came. I wanted 
to make a fortune for our mother and you and, 
yes, for Aunt Catalina; for I would give some of 
it to her, though she never has been kind to us.” 

“We did not need a fortune,” wailed the little 
girl ; “we were as happy as we could be as we were ! 
Oh, I wish we had never come away from home !” 
And Petronilla began to weep, while her brother, 
leaning across the arm of his chair, clasped her 
about the neck and mingled his tears with her own. 

Raising her head to find her handkerchief, the 
little girl saw a lady dressed in black approaching 
them from the other end of the corridor. “Some 
one is coming, Pedro,” she whispered, wiping his 
eyes and her own. “How glad I am that it is not 
her Majesty!” 

The lady was tall and very graceful ; she wore 
no jewels of any kind and her gown, of soft, silken 
material, with widely-flowing sleeves, showed a 
little white frill at the throat. Her hair was en- 
tirely concealed by a close Bearnaise cap, the head- 
dress of the women of the country, and her cos- 
tume was so plain, contrasted with that of the 
marquise and all the other ladies she had seen 
about the court, that Petronilla at first believed 
her to be a waiting-woman. But a second glance 
caused the child to feel instinctively that this sur- 
mise could not be correct, for there was something 
in the stranger’s manner which told that she was 
a lady, a person accustomed to command. She 


THE MARGUERITE OF MARGUERITES 


was by no means beautiful. Her eyes were dark 
and shining and her mouth was small, but her nose 
was long and her complexion pale. She wore an 
expression of kindness and sweetness which, after 
all, is more to be desired than a pretty nose. 

When they first observed her she was walking 
slowly, with her eyes cast down, as though ab- 
sorbed in thought. When she saw the twins she 
smiled and paused beside them, saying in a soft, 
musical voice : 

‘‘You seem to be in trouble, little ones. Tell me 
what is grieving you.” She stroked Petronilla’s 
cheek with her slender fingers. “See, there are 
traces of tears here! Will you not tell me -what 
has caused them, so that I may make everything 
right for you? Why,” she suddenly exclaimed, 
“you are just alike! There is not the difference of 
a hair between you.” 

“Yes, Madame,” replied Petronilla, “we are 
alike ; we are twins.” 

“Surely. I had forgotten; you are the Velasco 
twins, of whom the Marquise de Tallanges was 
telling me. You are of a noble Spanish family.” 

“Yes, Madame,” replied Pedro, “our father was 
noble; but our mother is an angel.” 

“Bravo, my gallant little man!” said the lady. 
“But you must tell me what made you weep. Let 
us sit down and talk it over.” 

The children had been standing respectfully 
before her, hand in hand. Pedro now drew his 


iTHE QUEEN’S PAGE 


chair forward for the lady, while he and his sister 
took the other one, which was large enough for 
two. 

The lady took Petronilla’s hand in hers. “How 
old are you, my darling?” she asked. 

“We are eleven years old, Madame.” 

“That is the age of my own little daughter.” 

“Is she in the palace? Shall we see her, 
Madame?” 

“No, she is not here, I regret to say; but you 
have not yet told me the cause of your tears.” 

“It is because we were thinking about home,” 
returned Petronilla. “It seems so long since we 
were there, and we should like so much to see our 
mother.” 

“Poor babies!” exclaimed the lady. “But why 
did your mother allow you to leave her? No 
mother should part from her children unless she 
is forced to do so.” 

“It was because Pedro wished to go out into 
the world and make a great name and a fortune, 
Madame, and our mother thought it would be 
best for him to go, as Madame la Marquise 
wished.” 

“I see, — sacrificing her own peace of mind for 
his good, poor soul! But could you not have re- 
mained at home to comfort her?” 

“I could not be separated from my brother, 
Madame,” replied the child simply. 

The lady kissed her impulsively. “I can not 

172 


THE MARGUERITE OF MARGUERITES 


blame you,” she cried. ‘T, too, know what it is to 
adore a brother.” 

‘Ts he a twin brother who looks like you, 
Madame?” 

‘We are not twins,” she answered; “I am two 
years the older. Yes, we are alike, but he is hand- 
some; he is gracious; he is a hero! But tell me of 
your life down there in the mountains; were you 
happy there?” 

Then the children told this gentle stranger all 
they knew of their short, simple lives. Of their 
mother, her kindness, her lovely black tresses that 
came almost to her feet; of Aunt Catalina; of 
Brother Frangois, who taught them; of Tomas, 
Jules, Olympie, Lenoir and Tonito, — not one was 
passed over in silence. They even gave a minute 
description of Vif, the squirrel, with whom they 
were sure court-life would agree, for he was as 
lively to-day as ever and did not mope in the least. 

“How my little one would enjoy that squirrel!” 
said their new friend. “She lately has had a 
present of some strange fowls, she writes me. She 
is very fond of pets.” 

“Do you think, Madame, that the queen will be 
coming along pretty soon?” asked Petronilla, 
breaking the silence which followed this remark. 

“The queen? Were you waiting to see her?” 

“Yes, Madame; but after all I am glad that you 
came instead, for you have cheered us and made 
us happy again. I hope you are living here, 
173 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

Madame, for if you will talk with us once in a 
while we shall not feel so lonely.” 

“Yes, I am living here and you shall talk to me 
sometimes if I am at leisure, for I am very busy 
usually.” 

Pedro wondered what this lady worked at. It 
could not be anything very laborious, for her hands 
were so white and smooth. 

“How would you like to go far away from here 
to another palace and live with my little girl?” 
asked the lady. 

“I do not know, Madame,” said Pedro. “Our 
mother might not like to have us go far away from 
Madame la Marquise, who wants me for her 
page.” 

“Well, we need speak of it no more for the 
present. Meanwhile it grows late.” As she spoke, 
she took a small, round object from the bosom of 
her dress. 

“Oh, what a lovely little clock!” exclaimed 
Petronilla. This would seem a queer term for a 
watch, but it was the first one the child had ever 
seen. They were something new at this time and 
were not called watches, but pocket clocks. The 
lady laughed and laid the watch in the little girl’s 
hand. It was a pretty toy. On the back of it was 
a sunflower set in topazes, with a center of black 
pearls, and underneath was the motto. Non infe- 
riora secutus. 

“Your priestly tutor taught you something of 
174 



Then the children told this gentle stranger all they knew of their 

short simple liv'cs 



THE MARGUERITE OE MARGUERITES 


Latin, you say,” said their friend; “tell me what 
that means.” 

The boy studied it for a moment. ''I follow 
nothing inferior/* said he. 

“Right, my little savant!” said the lady admir- 
ingly. “I am more and more convinced that it 
will be well for you to join my daughter.” She 
rose as she spoke. 

“How I wish you need not leave us!” pleaded 
Petronilla. 

“Oh, but I must go. I will send some one to 
show you through the gardens, and you shall come 
to the dining-room to-night, where you will see 
the queen and afterward the play. So do not feel 
lonely any more, for you see you have some pleas- 
ures before you.” 

The children thanked her with sparkling eyes. 
Now indeed were they to see something of court- 
life! 

The lady nodded smilingly and moved away, 
and shortly afterward another appeared who was 
richly dressed and wore a great many jewels. 
“Come, little ones,” she said, “her Majesty says 
that I must find some one to conduct you to the 
gardens.” 

“Who could have told her Majesty that we 
were here, Madame?” asked Petronilla wonder- 
ingly. 

“Who but her own eyes?” laughed the lady. 

The children thought this very strange and won- 
I7S 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


dered how the queen could have seen them when 
they had not caught even a glimpse of her. 

“Who was that sweet lady in black who was 
talking to us a few moments ago, Madame?” 
asked Pedro. 

“Do you not know who it was?” 

“No, Madame.” 

“Have you not a little, little notion as to whom 
you were prattling?” 

“No, Madame, we are strangers here and we 
know no one.” 

“Why, who should it be but Marguerite of 
Angouleme, called by her royal brother ‘the pearl 
of pearls.’ My dear children, you have been speak- 
ing with her Majesty, the Queen of Navarre!” 



176 


CHAPTER XVI 


LIFE AT THE COURT OF NAVARRE 

Pedro and Petronilla gazed at each other in 
horror and for the moment were speechless. Final- 
ly the latter said in frightened tones : 

‘‘And we did not kneel, or say ‘Your Majesty,’ 
or do one thing that we were told to do! Oh, I 
know she must be very angry with us!” 

“Do not be frightened,” said the lady, smiling, 
“you had no means of knowing to whom you were 
speaking, and if her Majesty had wished you to 
address her as a queen she would have revealed 
her identity. Come, let us go.” 

They walked down a long hall and the lady 
called a page, a boy some two years older than the 
twins, who was their guide to the terraces planned 
by the queen, which now were all a-bloom with 
the blossoms of spring. The page made up for 
what his queen had lacked in haughtiness of de- 
meanor. He answered their questions as if every 
word were a jewel with which he was loath to part, 
looking extremely bored, meanwhile, as one who 
is doing something which is far beneath his 
dignity. 

After they had been through the gardens he left 
177 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


them at a quick turn in the path and they would 
have felt somewhat dismayed had they not at that 
moment beheld Fabien seated on a stone bench 
under a lime-tree and Guillot standing behind 
him. 

“I saw the soldiers drill and they were fine!” 
cried the former. 

‘‘And we saw the queen and she talked to us for 
a long time, while we did not know that she was 
anything more than a kind lady,” said Petronilla. 

“Did you do the things my grandmother told 
you to do?” 

“No, we did not do anything but be polite. I 
tell you we did not know that it was her Majesty. 
How could we tell? She did not wear her crown.” 

“Everything about this court is tame,” said 
Guillot. “Her Majesty does not dress like a queen 
here, but when she is at the court of her brother, 
the King of France, then she is magnificent.” 

“But is it not better to be a queen in Navarre 
than to be merely the king’s sister in France?” 
asked Pedro. 

“I do not think so and I do not believe her 
Majesty thinks so either. This is but a small 
country.” 

“It is large enough to be happy in,” retorted 
Petronilla, who did not relish this slight offered 
to her native land. “I expect her Majesty does 
not care for dress, and when she is in her own 
country she can do as she pleases.” 

178 


LIFE AT THE COURT OF NAVARRE 

“The reason,” insisted Guillot, who would not 
have his opinions denied, “is because at Fontaine- 
bleau she is a great princess, while here she is a 
small queen. Think of it! She has but six mules 
to draw her two litters!” 

“She is a great queen,” maintained the little girl 
stoutly. “And I do not think it fair to judge people 
by the number of mules they own. A person might 
be very great and still not care very much about 
mules.” 

At this moment the haughty page returned with 
the announcement that the Marquise de Tallanges 
wished the children to come at once to her apart- 
ments. 

The good marquise was one of those people who 
crave all the sympathy that can be offered in time 
of trouble; and they now found her dissolved in 
tears. One glance around the room made a verbal 
explanation of her grief unnecessary. 

Maroc had been left fastened to a bedpost by a 
chain, for the marquise, having learned his little 
ways, would not permit him to range at will about 
her rooms. Left to himself, he became very restless. 
His chain would allow him to climb to the top of 
the bedpost, and this he did a good many times; 
but there is no real fun in climbing up and down a 
bedpost continuously or in walking round and 
round a circle not more than six feet from the bed. 
Maroc was growing very tired of it. Perhaps he, 
too, was thinking of Jules, who often gave him a 

179 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

nice little titbit, and was wishing himself back 
again in the castle. 

Once more up the bedpost he went, and, sitting 
on the canopy that covered the top of the bed, 
he looked thoughtfully about for some means of 
amusement. On a table near the head of the bed 
was a tray of sweetmeats, a bottle of wine and a 
plate of biscuits, the occupant of the room being 
in the habit of taking an occasional lunch in the 
night. The monkey had tried his best to reach this 
table, for he, too, was fond of sweets, but unfor- 
tunately for him he was chained to the foot of 
the bed and his chain was not quite long enough 
to reach the dainties he so coveted. 

On the dressing-table in the room beyond were 
wax candles in silver branches, six on each side. 
Maroc had often wondered how those candles 
would feel to the touch and if by any chance they 
were good to eat. It was very annoying to be 
chained up like this when there were so many 
fascinating things to investigate. He gave a swift 
and sudden jerk to his chain. This time the slender 
. links broke, and without loss of time Maroc 
scampered to the floor, feeling that the world was 
his own. 

He went first to the tray of sweets and popped 
one into his mouth. It realized his fondest expec- 
tations and he joyously consumed the remainder. 
The wine he did not care for. His young master 
once had given him a cupful in which a goodly 

i8o 


LIFE ATi THE COURT OF NAVARRE 


quantity of red pepper had been sprinkled, and 
after that episode Maroc had no further use for 
the juice of the grape as a beverage; but wine, 
lovely red wine, is a very fine thing to amuse one- 
self with in other ways. Across a chair lay a hand- 
some gown of lemon-colored brocade, which the 
marquise intended to put on that evening. This 
gorgeous piece of finery the little meddler pulled 
to the floor and poured the wine over it, delighted 
to see the crimson spots and splashes he was able 
to make on the thick goods. Perhaps he thought 
he was improving the gown and was doing the 
marquise a favor, — something she would have 
done herself if it had entered her mind. Let us 
give him the benefit of the doubt, and the credit 
for a good intention. 

Next he climbed to the dressing-table, where 
stood those mysterious candles. They were soft and 
easily crushed. He tried them all and left ruin 
behind him. He picked up a silver jar containing 
a red paste which he often had seen the maid apply 
to the lips of her mistress. He was about to experi- 
ment with this new plaything when the door sud- 
denly opened and the marquise appeared. 

The simian received a cuff which he remem- 
bered for the rest of his life; then the old lady 
sank into a chair and burst into tears. She com- 
manded her maid, who came in at that moment, to 
send the little page for the children. 

^7ust see what your pet has done!” she cried to 

i8i 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

Fabien. “I have humored you in every way and 
have allowed you to have everything you want, 
and this is all the thanks I get for it! This is by 
no means the first time that wretched animal has 
destroyed my property, but I promise you it shall 
be the last! My beautiful gown, which I intended 
' to wear this evening, ruined for ever!” 

“The little beast has eaten every one of the 
sugar-plums,” said his master, looking regretfully 
into the tray. 

“What are the sweets compared to my lovely 
gown?” cried his grandmother stormily. 

The twins were greatly distressed to see their 
good friend so unhappy, and even Fabien ceased 
to grin. But the old lady gradually regained her 
usual calm and even smiled at the cause of her 
woes, who had climbed to Petronilla’s arm, where 
he cuddled in mortal fear, wrapping a fold of the 
ample sleeve about him as if to protect himself 
from his enemy. He finally was sent from the 
room in the care of Guillot, who was instructed 
to whip him, but not too hard. 

The twins were in a flutter of excitement at the 
thought of taking supper with her Majesty. “She 
knows we are of a noble family, — that is why she 
wants to see us there,” said Pedro. 

“No, I do not think that is the reason,” returned 
his sister. “She is fond of looking at us because 
we are alike and because we are of the same age 
as the Princess Jeanne.” 

182 


LIFE AT THE COURT OF NAVARRE 


will not take supper at the same table with 
the queen,” said the marquise, “but you will prob- 
ably be placed at another table, which is presided 
over by her Majesty’s first lady of honor, the 
senechale of Poitou.” 

The children were surprised to find that the 
supper was not so grand as that which had been 
served to the Countess de Fleury, for the Queen of 
Navarre did not believe, as many did at that time, 
that to eat was the sole aim of life, and her table 
was not furnished with the variety of viands which 
might be found in the homes of some of her noble 
subjects. 

There were two tables in the supper-room, at 
one of which the queen supped alone, for the king 
at this time was away at Guyenne looking after 
his soldiers. Her Majesty looked toward the chil- 
dren with a bright smile, and during the meal one 
of her officers approached with a dish from her 
table. Helping the children to it, he said: “Her 
Majesty wishes you to try this viand,” — adding 
good-naturedly: “It is composed of cock’s crests 
and was brought to France by her Majesty’s royal 
niece, the Dauphiness Catherine de’ Medici.” The 
young and healthy appetites of the twins appreci- 
ated the dainty, about which Pedro determined to 
write to old Jules. 

To the little guests the strangest feature of the 
meal was to see the people outside staring at them 
while they were eating, for it was the custom of 
183 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


the period for the common people to watch their 
sovereigns while they were at their meals. 

When the supper was ended all went to a large 
drawing-room, or salon, where the queen motioned 
^to the twins to stand behind her chair. There was 
music and the ladies and gentlemen took turns in 
telling stories and in making rhymes, for her 
Majesty was very fond of such pastime. 

After a while a pretty lady took up a lute and, 
with a respectful courtesy to the queen, sang: 

‘'O, welcome is he who at length 

Shall stop at my door and shall cry; 

‘The king to new health and new strength 
Is returning, the king will not die!’ 

Then she who were now better dead 
Will run the news-bearer to see. 

And kiss him for what he hath said; 

That her brother from danger is free.” 

These lines, the marquise afterward told the 
children, were composed by the Queen of Navarre 
when she was on her way to see her brother, ’ 
Francis the First, when he was ill in a Spanish 
prison. ; 

Queen Marguerite now thanked the singer with i 
one of her brilliant smiles and gave orders that j 
the play should begin. | 

There was no scenery such as we see in the ! 

theater to-day, the play being acted by some of I 
the queen’s retainers on a raised platform at one j 
end of the salon. It was a comedy written by the ^ 

184 I 


LIFE !ATi iTHE COURTi OF NAVARRE 


queen’s own hand, and the children did not under- 
stand it very well, for it was about two women 
who were dissatisfied with their husbands. These 
ladies consulted a dame one hundred years old, 
who gave them good advice as a woman arrived at 
that mature age ought to be able to give. 

The next play was given by the children of the 
royal chapel and amused everybody very much. 
There was a very stout captain who strutted about 
and bragged a great deal, and there was a man 
who was so anxious to display his learning that 
he was always getting himself entangled in long 
words, of which neither he nor anybody else could 
understand the meaning. But most interesting of 
all was a very wicked man who was always fol- 
lowed about by small demons. These demons were 
dressed in red and wore hats fashioned in three 
long peaks, one sticking straight up and the others 
standing out at either side of the head. The demons 
had a better time than anybody else, for they were 
in the habit of taking one another by the hand and 
dancing wildly, to the great delight of the be- 
holders. At the end of the play they seized the 
wicked man and ran off with him. 


185 


CHAPTER XVII 

QUEEN marguerite’s PLANS FOR THE TWINS 

The next morning the marquise said to Pedro : 
“Now, my little man, if you are to be my page I 
want you to begin your duties at once. I want 
some letters written, one to my sister at Poitiers, 
one to my cousin in Normandy and one to my 
tailor. It will be fine to have some one to attend 
to my correspondence, for it cramps my hand to 
write and I always stain my fingers with ink.” 

Pedro made a pen from a quill as he had been 
instructed to do by Brother Frangois, and wrote 
the letters at the old lady’s dictation. It was not 
an easy task, for at times she spoke so rapidly that 
it was difficult to keep pace with her and he was 
obliged to ask her to repeat her words; and at 
others he would wait for many minutes while the 
marquise, with her eyes fixed on vacancy, was 
struggling with her ideas in the effort to find 
something to say.* The boy knew a half-dozen lines 
of a poem learned once as a task, which, he timidly 
stated, he always had thought would be good 
to put in a letter. Being asked to repeat them, he 
did so, and was told by the marquise to put them 
in, as they would be “good to help fill up,” and 

i86 


QUEEN MARGUERITE’S PLANS 


Pedro added them as directed, though they did 
not seem to have much to do 'with the other mat- 
ters mentioned in the letter. His employer was 
very well pleased with his morning’s work and 
when he was through she embraced him most 
affectionately. 

Senora Velasco had taught her daughter to em- 
broider and the marquise, pleased to find that the 
child possessed this accomplishment, set her to 
work upon a cushion which she had begun and 
grown tired of some months before. Petronilla 
was fond of the work, with its seed pearls and its 
gold threads and bright-colored silks, and when 
the twins were employed during the morning the 
marquise glanced proudly at the two golden heads, 
one bent over the embroidery frame and the other 
over the writing-table; and while congratulating 
herself upon having discovered them, she sighed at 
the thought that it was more than probable she 
would be obliged to part with them soon. 

Often when Pedro’s work was done and the 
marquise had no more letters to dictate, the old 
lady, who was very fond of the sound of her own 
voice, as well as extremely good-natured, talked to 
the twins of the various happenings at the courts 
of France and Navarre. 

Most of all were they interested in the little 
Princess Jeanne d’Albret, the daughter of their 
queen. “It is not strange that our mother was 
willing to part with. us,” said Petronilla, “for she 
187 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


is not rich and must do what seems best. But her 
Majesty could keep the princess here at court with 
her to be her comfort and her joy, as our mother 
says we always have been to her.” 

The marquise shook her head. “Even a queen 
may not always do as she likes, and her Majesty 
is entirely under the influence of her royal brother. 
When the little princess was not quite three years 
of age Charles the Fifth of Spain wished to betroth 
her to his son Philip. He promised our king that if 
this marriage should take place Spanish Navarre 
should be restored and the country would be united 
again.” 

“Our mother would be very glad of that, 
Madame,” said Pedro, as the old lady paused for 
breath, “for Spanish Navarre was her native 
country. It was very kind of the King of Spain 
to think of it.” 

“My dear boy, kings never do anything of that 
sort just to be kind I And Charles would be the 
very last one to make any offer that did not have 
a deep motive behind it, for he is very crafty. 
The Princess Jeanne will one day be the Queen 
of Navarre in her own right. She will own the 
counties of Foix, Armagnac, Albret, Bigorre and 
Comminges, which are very rich, and Charles 
could well promise to give back a portion of his 
territory in order that Spain should have control 
of it all when the little princess should marry his 
son. He also wanted the princess to be sent to 


QUEEN MARGUERITE’S PLANS 


Toledo to be educated in order to have her grow 
up surrounded by Spanish influence. 

“But this arrangement did not please the King 
of France, for he wished to have control of his 
niece and her possessions. He was afraid to allow 
her to stay at the court of Navarre, but wanted 
her in his own domains ; so he had her placed in 
the castle of Plessis-les-Tours, where she is under 
his own eye.” 

“How the Princess Jeanne must hate the King 
of France for taking her away from her mother 1” 
said Petronilla. 

“No, quite the contrary. She always has been 
very fond of him and I believe her mother has 
taught her that the King of France can do no 
wrong. When she was a little child at the court 
of France the king petted her and she was very 
fond of him. Her own father also made a great 
deal of her and the people about the court named 
her the kings’ darling. She was a dear little crea- 
ture, pretty and a good deal spoiled, as was only 
natural with so much petting. 

“The queen suffers greatly from being separated 
from her only child. One day three years ago, 
when her Majesty was in Paris, she received news 
that the Princess Jeanne was very ill. It was almost 
night and the rain was pouring in torrents. The 
queen could not find any one belonging to her 
suite, for they were in different parts of the city, 
not knowing that she would need them, and the 

189 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

litters in which she traveled had been stored for 
the winter. But her Majesty is resolute and allows 
nothing to stand in her way when she has once 
made up her mind; so she borrowed a litter and 
set out for Plessis that same afternoon. They 
stopped for the night at a little village, where the 
queen went immediately to the church, and, kneel- 
ing with her brow on the railing of the altar, 
prayed earnestly for the recovery of her child. 
It was not a question of queen or of princess then, 
it was a mother who humbly begged for the life 
of her little one. 

^^About two o’clock in the morning, when the 
queen, who could not sleep, was reading her Bible, 
she heard the sound of a horn, and that meant, you 
know, that a royal courier had arrived. Oh, how 
frightened the queen was when she heard the hoof- 
beats on the pavement! And when she heard him 
enter the courtyard of the inn she was almost mad 
with anxiety, for she knew he had come to bring 
her news, — whether good or bad she could not 
tell, though she feared the worst. 

‘^She threw open the window and called to him, 
but her voice could not be heard. When the Bish- 
op of Seez entered the room. Queen Marguerite 
was sure that her little girl was dead, and she knelt 
on the floor by the couch with her face buried in 
the folds of her mantle. 

‘‘When he came toward her, she said, ‘Ah, Mon- 
sieur de Seez, you come to announce the death of 
190 


QUEEN MARGUERITE’S PLANS 


my only child! You need not speak, I well under- 
stand that she now stands in the presence of her 
God.’ 

‘^But the bishop said no; the princess had been 
pronounced out of danger. He even had a note 
brought by the courier and written by the princess’ 
own hand, stating that she was better. And you 
may be sure that her Majesty had never received a 
jewel, not even the crown of Navarre itself, that, 
made her so happy as that little scrap of paper 
which assured her that her child was still in the 
land of the living.” 

think mothers must be the same, whether they 
are queens or not,” said Petronilla, wiping her 
eyes. 

“Good mothers are the same all the world over,” 
replied the marquise. 

“And did her Majesty return to Paris, Ma- 
dame, when she found the princess out of danger?” 

“Not she! She continued her journey to Plessis- 
les-Tours, where she remained with her daughter 
until she was once more well and strong. But the 
most important journey Queen Marguerite ever 
undertook,” went on the marquise, “was when 
she went to Spain at the time her brother was in 
prison there.” 

“He was taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia,” 
said Pedro; “I heard Guillot talk of it.” 

“Yes, and it must have been a severe blow to the 
proud king to be obliged to give up his sword and 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


his armor, to be kept for ever by Spain with other 
trophies of war.” 

It may be said in passing that if any of the read- 
ers of this story ever should visit Spain they will 
find the sword and armor of Francis in the royal 
armory of Madrid. The armor is of steel inlaid 
with gold, and is kept as brightly polished as on 
the day it was last worn by the king of France. 

“The queen found her brother very ill and dis- 
couraged when she visited him,” continued the 
marquise, “but she cheered him by her presence, 
and she must have seemed like a gleam of sunshine 
in his gloomy sick-room. 

“She was not at all afraid to talk with the great 
King Charles the Fifth, but told him roundly what 
she thought of the way he had used her brother. 
During her stay there she did everything in her 
power to bring about the marriage between Fran- 
cis and the sister of the Spanish king, which, you 
know, afterward took place. Oh, there is no doubt 
that Queen Marguerite is the most wonderful 
woman in Europe to-day.” 

Just as the marquise finished speaking a mes- 
senger came to the door with the information that 
her Majesty wished Monsieur and Mademoiselle 
de Velasco to come to her withdrawing-room. 

The children rose hastily and with some trep- 
idation. They had been in the palace for three 
weeks, but the queen, who seemed to be very much 
engaged, had not spoken to or sent for the twins 

192 


QUEEN MARGUERITE’S PLANS 


since the day of their arrival. The good marquise 
smoothed their hair with her own hands and said, 
“Go, my dears; it has come at last as I expected it 
would.” 

The children wondered why she should speak 
in this manner, which made them very uneasy. 
They were quite pale when they knelt at the feet 
of her Majesty to kiss her hand. 

“You seem agitated,” said Marguerite, smiling 
upon them. “What is the matter?” 

Petronilla, who was always the first to find her 
tongue, said: “We are afraid, your Majesty, that 
we have been doing something wrong, though we 
do not know what it can be.” 

“Why should you think that I sent for you to * 
punish you?” replied the queen. “I am not so 
cruel, I hope.” 

“Every one tells of your Majesty’s goodness,” 
said Pedro, “but Madame la Marquise was sad 
when your Majesty sent for us,' and we did not 
know — ” and the boy hesitated. 

“Oh, you did not reflect that what might be sad 
for the Marquise de Tallanges might not be so 
terrible for you,” said the queen, smiling. “You 
may recall that the day I spoke with you I asked 
if you would like to live with my daughter, the 
Princess Jeanne of Navarre. I am afraid you will 
not like it so well there as here, for Plessis-les- 
Tours is a gloomy place, and that is why I want 
merry companions for my darling child. You 
193 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

shall go there and be her companions, her play- 
mates. 

“She has a hot temper and may sometimes strike 
you in a fit of anger, but she will be sorry for it 
afterward, for she has a kind little heart, and in the 
main she will be good to you. I could command 
you to go even against your will, but I do not 
think I need to do that, for I am sure you will be 
willing to join a lonely little girl who is separated 
from her parents and who can not at present en- 
joy the pleasures to which her rank entitles her.” 

Petronilla turned her eyes on her brother in a 
mute appeal for him to make a reply. 

“We will go willingly, your Majesty,” said the 
boy simply. “Whatever our queen orders must be 
right.” 

“That is as a loyal subject should reply, and I 
will promise to look out for your interests as long 
as it is necessary; and should you quit the service 
of her Highness it will only be to enter another as 
good.” 

The twins were quite unhappy when they had 
left the gracious presence of the queen. They did 
not want to go to another strange place just as they 
were beginning to feel at home at the court of 
Navarre and they did not want to say good-by to 
the kind marquise, of whom they were very fond. 
They did not care to part even with Fabien, who, 
although he continued to be more or less disagree- 
able at times, possessed a share of their friendship. 

194 


QUEEN MARGUERITE’S PLANS 


They heard a burst of gay laughter as they left 
the queen’s presence and, standing in an archway, 
they beheld the Count de Saint-Victor, surround- 
ed by ladies who were chaffing, tormenting and 
fluttering their fans at him in a way the children 
thought must be very bewildering; but the count 
merely laughed, and he even caught the hand of 
one lady and took her fan from her, holding it 
high above her head so that she must beg for it in 
order to recover it. The children wished for an 
opportunity to tell him their woes, but they dared 
not disturb him at present. As soon as he saw the 
twins, however, he returned her fan to the lady 
and came toward the children. 

“Why those melancholy looks?” he asked, as he 
gave a hand to each. “Has my friend, the mar- 
quise, been scolding you?” 

“Oh, no. Monsieur,” replied Pedro, “but we are 
in trouble, and when you have time I want to tell 
you about it.” 

At this moment a page came from her Majesty’s 
apartment with a message for the Count de Saint- 
Victor. To the children he said: “I will meet you 
in the garden in a little while, and you shall tell 
me your troubles.” 

“I do not know what charm these children bring 
to bear upon the count,” said one of the ladies, 
“but he will leave us at any time to go to them.” 
As she spoke she took a box of confitures from the 
bag that hung from her girdle, and, dividing its 
195 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


contents between the two, she told them to go to 
the terrace and wait for the count. 

Pedro and Petronilla took a seat under one of 
the orange-trees that bordered the walk, and by 
the time they had finished their sweets the count 
joined them. “I am to have the pleasure of con- 
ducting you to Plessis-les-Tours,” he said, taking 
a seat between them. 

“Oh, how happy I shall be if you will stay with 
us there 1” cried Petronilla, clinging to his arm. 

“That would be impossible, my child,” he said, 
patting her hand. “When I have seen you safely 
to your journey’s end I must away to Paris, where 
the King of France needs me, or thinks he does, 
which amounts to the same thing. But you must 
bear up and be patient, and who knows but that 
your mother may come to see you some time? I 
fancy she will.” 

He spoke so confidently that the children felt 
very much cheered. Then he told them about the 
castle of Plessis-les-Tours, where the little prin- 
cess lived. He said it was an old chateau sur- 
rounded by moats and drawbridges, that it had 
dungeons and triple walls and had been the favor- 
ite retreat of Louis the Eleventh, the king who was 
so gloomy and so cruel and caused his enemies to be 
hanged to the limbs of the forest trees, though he 
pretended to be very pious and constantly prayed 
to the little images in his hat. But the count said 
the apartments of the little princess were very 

196 


QUEEN MARGUERITE’S PLANS 


handsome; that she had her pets and everything to 
make her happy, and that he was sure they would 
be contented there. 

They remained in the garden with the count for 
some time and when they returned to the apart- 
ments of the marquise they found her dissolved 
in tears, as she had been on the day of Maroc’s es- 
capade. Thinking that the monkey had been do- 
ing some further damage they looked about them, 
but could not see any evidences of mischief. 

“Oh, my dears, my dears,” she cried, wiping her 
eyes at last, “we must all go to Plessis-les-Tours!” 
Then she told them that she had felt from the first 
that the queen would want them to go and live 
with the princess. 

Although she did not say it, this was really the 
reason she had brought both of them to Pau, for 
the good marquise was like every one else about 
the court, anxious to please the queen. But she had 
not expected that she, too, would be asked to go to 
Plessis-les-Tours. 

“Her Majesty says she wants the princess to be 
surrounded by cheerful people, and that is why 
she wants me to go ; she says I am always so gay,” 
groaned the old lady between her sobs, looking 
anything but gay at that moment. “But I am get- 
ting along in years, and I am very comfortable in 
the company of the ladies here, of whom I am 
quite fond, and I do not want to change.” 

“I think it will be fine,” said Fabien, who had 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

entered while his grandmother was speaking. 
“There is a good long journey to take in the first 
place, and we can see something of the world. | 
And Guillot says the King of France sometimes > 
goes to see the Princess Jeanne and that they all go 
hunting together. When I grow up I shall live at f 
, the court of France, and I mean to go hunting 
every day of my life.” 

“Oh, I am glad so many of us are going!” ' 
said Pedro. “Why, there will be Madame la Mar- 
quise, and you, Fabien, and Guillot and Felice, 
and we shall not be all by ourselves as we had ex- 
pected to be.” 

The marquise dried her tears and laughed at 
some remark of her grandson’s, for she thought 
him the wittiest person, as well as the most beauti- 
ful boy in the world. Then, as they were to start i 
on the following day, she began to give Felice a | 
great many directions regarding their luggage and f 
confided to Petronilla that on the day the King of | 
France should come to Plessis-les-Tours she was ! 
going to wear a gorgeous robe of mulberry-col- 
ored satin, the sleeves slashed with white, which ' 
she would order immediately from Paris, so that 
it would be finished in time. 


15)8 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE PRINCESS JEANNE OF NAVARRE 

They set forth this time with quite an escort of 
soldiers, for it was a trip ordered by the queen, 
who had troops at her command and, moreover, 
the journey was a long and dangerous one and it 
was necessary that they should be well guarded. 
In these days of railways the journey from Pau 
to Plessis is a short one, but at that time it required 
many days, and although it was not uninteresting 
all were glad when it was finished. 

It was twilight when they came in sight of the 
old castle of Plessis-les-Tours, which appeared 
gloomy and like a prison with its black turrets out- 
lined against the sky. It was a strong fortress in the 
time of Louis the Eleventh, who was always afraid 
of danger, for tyrants are always cowards. They 
went over a drawbridge which rose after they had 
passed, and they felt completely shut off from the 
outside world, which after all is not so dreadful 
to contemplate when that outside world has danger 
in it. 

The children wished to retire as soon as they 
had supper, for they were very tired and it was 
understood that they were not to see the princess 
until morning. 


199 


i 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE ; 

The maid had just unfastened Petronilla’s gown 
to prepare her for bed when a message came from 
Madame de Silly, who was the chief lady-of-honor 
and governess to the princess, requesting that 
Mademoiselle de Velasco should come to her. 

The maid hastily refastened the gown and gave 
a little pat to the child’s hair, and the latter fol- 
lowed the messenger from the room. 

Madame de Silly, a lady apparently about 
the age of the Queen of Navarre, smiled in a ' 
kind manner as she took Petronilla’s hand. “I 
know you must be fatigued after your long jour- 
ney, little one,” she said, ‘‘and it seems cruel to 
keep you from your bed. But her Highness has 
taken a fancy to see you at once and she will not 
wait until morning. She has been a very lonely 
little girl of late. When her Majesty was last 
here she took away in her train Mademoiselle de 
Rohan and Mademoiselle de Gramont, play- ) 
mates of her Highness, and for whom she enter- 
tained a deep affection. The departure of those 
two and of her mother, whom she adores, threw ; 
her into such a state of melancholy that I feared i 
for her health. She begged to go to her parents, » 
although we told her over and over again that her 
desire could not be granted. Then she implored . 
us to write to the King of France and obtain per- J 
mission for her to reside at his court, but this we jj 
did not dare to do, because it is at his command i| 
she is here. She would not resume her studies with I 


200 


THE PRINCESS JEANNE OF NAVARRE 

Monsieur de Bourbon, who teaches her the lan- 
guages and poetry, and she will weep in her room 
for hours at a time. This is why you children are 
here to be her companions, to cheer her and to 
overcome her melancholy. And you are most 
lucky to be appointed to the position, for the great- 
est nobles of the realm have considered it an honor 
to have their daughters selected as companions to 
the Princess Jeanne.” 

“But, Madame,” said Petronilla, “my dress is 
not suitable; to appear before her Highness I 
should have one of my prettiest costumes.” 

“That does not matter. There is no time to 
make a change in your toilet and she wishes to see 
you as you are. She is in bed and the fancy has 
seized her to see you before she sleeps. Come.” 

They entered a large room which was furnished 
with splendor, for the King of France spared no 
expense in surrounding his niece with beautiful 
objects. But Petronilla paid little attention to the 
gilded furniture or the rich tapestry, so agitated 
was she concerning the coming interview. 

At the farther end of the room was a large bed 
covered by a canopy and adorned with hangings 
that fell about a third of the way from the top, 
showing in the candle-light the glint of gold in 
their embroidery. On the bed, half-reclining in 
the midst of huge cushions, was a childish figure 
with a pale little face, large dark eyes and flowing 
locks half-concealed by a nightcap. Petronilla’s 
201 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

ideas of royalty here received another shock. She 
had supposed that queens and princesses always 
wore their crowns and coronets; but she had seen 
the Queen of Navarre in a Bearnaise bonnet, and 
here was the future ruler of that country in a 
nightcap, a silk one, but still a nightcap. 

“Go forward and speak to her,” whispered 
Madame de Silly to the little girl, who advanced 
shyly and stood on the raised step at the side of 
the bed. 

Petronilla kissed the little hand which was 
extended to her, and waited for the princess to 
speak. 

“I was anxious to see you,” said the small lady 
in a high, clear voice, “and I could not sleep 
until they brought you to me. I have a letter from 
the queen, my mother, which says that you are 
different from the children I have known and that 
you will amuse me.” 

“Yes, Madame,” murmured Petronilla, “and 
my brother and I have brought you Vif, our 
squirrel, which we are sure will make you laugh.” 

“Oh, that is good! I love pets and I am sure I 
shall like you. Oh, how I hate this castle I Do you 
know there are iron cages in the courtyard where 
King Louis the Eleventh used to shut men until 
they died, and there is the river where he caused so 
many people to be drowned. In the great hall 
where my uncle was married to the Princess 
Claude I can think of nothing but the people who 

a02 



And here was the future ruler of that country in a nightcap 

Page 202 



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THE PRINCESS JEANNE OF NAVARRE 

used to go there so long ago and kneel at the feet 
of Louis to beg for their lives. Ah! if I could only 
go to my mother or to the court of France, where 
everything is gay and everybody is happy!” 

“Brother Frangois always told us that no one 
ever is really happy in this world and that we 
must make the best of the pleasures we have while 
we are here, if they are innocent joys, and that 
we must try to be contented.” 

V “Do not tell me what a monk preached to you,” 
said the princess somewhat fretfully. “Tell me 
instead about the squirrel.” 

So Petronilla told her all of Vif’s tricks and even 
of Tonito, who, she was sure, would miss her 
and her brother, and pretty soon Jeanne laughed 
gaily, which delighted Madame de Silly, who 
declared that the visitor had done the princess 
good already. 

“I am sure I shall like you,” said her Highness 
again as she bade the little girl good night; and 
turning her head on the pillow she was asleep 
before they were out of the room. 

“I am pleased to see her go to sleep,” whispered 
her governess, “for she has rested but poorly of 
late.” 

As for Petronilla, she fell asleep while the maid 
was undressing her and dreamed that she was in 
her own little bed at home, where a Madonna 
bent over her who proved to be her mother. 

The following morning Pedro was notified that 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


Madame de Silly wished to see him, and at the 
same time a servant was sent to his room to fetch 
Vif in his cage. “Come with me to the apartments 
of her Highness and bring the squirrel yourself, 
for it is your present and it is fitting that you 
should tender it with your own hands,” said the 
governess, adding: “We have not told her of your 
resemblance to your sister, as we wish it to be a 
surprise.” 

The princess was seated in a large chair at the 
end of the room and at first she saw nothing but 
the squirrel. Vif leaped from one side to the other 
of his cage and whirled the wheel about as if he 
knew he was performing before the princess and 
wanted to do his best. 

Her Highness gave a cry of delight and 
watched him for some time; then she raised her 
eyes to Pedro’s face, for the boy had been standing 
respectfully before her. “Oh, it is the little Bear- 
naise,” she began, then stopped suddenly. “Why 
do you wear a doublet and hose like a boy?” she 
asked discontentedly. 

The ladies about her smiled and Madame de 
Silly said: “This is Pedro Velasco, twin brother 
of the little girl whom you saw last night, your 
Highness. They are, as you see, very much alike.” 

Jeanne was amazed at the resemblance and 
immediately sent for Petronilla, that she might 
compare the twins. She became very affable and 
grew so cheerful in the presence of these bright 

204 


THE PRINCESS JEANNE OF NAVARRE 

new faces that the ladies of the court nodded 
approvingly at each other as if to say, “Now our 
little charge will be cured of her melancholy.” 

“You must come and see my pets!” cried the 
princess after a while, and they all went down to 
the courtyard and through a side entrance, where 
she showed them some rabbits and a dozen large 
fowls which lately had been sent to her. These 
fowls were the first of the kind that had been seen 
in France. There were six males and six females. 
They were a curiosity to the people of that day, 
but similar ones now appear upon our own tables 
on Thanksgiving, Christmas, or any time when 
we want a particularly good dinner, for they were 
nothing more or less than turkeys! 

Crossing the courtyard, the princess paused to 
speak to a tall, strong man, who proved to be her 
falconer. 

All families of wealth and distinction kept 
hawks, or falcons as they were called, those birds 
being used in the chase for catching all kinds of 
small game, such as hares, kites and herons. The 
Princess Jeanne had a number of them in which 
she took great delight, for she was fond of hunt- 
ing. Much trouble was taken to teach the birds 
to obey the falconer. 

When the dogs had started a bird the falcon 
was allowed to soar upward and catch his feath- 
ered prey, and when he had captured it he was 
permitted to eat a part of it to encourage him to 

305 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

continue the deadly work. It was a cruel pastime, j 
but not more so than some of the sport of the ^ 
present day, and it was much enjoyed by those who 
engaged in it. It was the fashion for ladies and ; 
gentlemen to carry a bird on the wrist, and the 
bird carried thus was a mark of noble birth. : 
When the master fought in battle the servant held i 
the bird and in case the owner was made a pris- 
oner the bird, according to the laws of chivalry, 
must be set free. | 

The falconer of Plessis-les-Tours seemed to be 
very much pleased because his small mistress had 
stopped to ask about the hawk he carried. Over ■ 
the fourth finger of the hand on which it rested he 
had placed a queer little hood, made of leather 
and trimmed with scarlet velvet; while on the top 
of it was a tuft of feathers. The purpose of this 
hood was to blind the bird so it would not fly 
away at inconvenient moments. This particular 
falcon had taken a violent dislike to her hood, the 
falconer explained; she was afraid of it and he 
was carrying it about on his hand so that by con- 
stantly seeing this gay piece of headgear she would 
grow accustomed to it. He took a piece of meat : 
intended for her breakfast and, as Mistress Falcon 
was about to take a bite, he dragged the hood over 
it and prevented her from getting even a small 
taste. She threw back her head in a startled way 
as if to say, “Am I never to see the last of this 
tiresome hood?” But her master dragged it over 


THE PRINCESS JEANNE OF NAVARRE 

and about the meat until at last the meat fell into 
the hood, and in her anxiety to get at her long- 
delayed breakfast the hawk thrust her head into 
the obnoxious piece of headgear, forgetting its 
gaudy trimmings and its smothering effect in her 
eagerness to satisfy her hunger. The falconer said 
he now thought she would no longer be afraid of 
it and would be willing to wear the hood when- 
ever he wished her to do so. 

The princess was very much interested in this 
performance and historians tell us that as a child 
she could hood a hawk as deftly as the falconer 
himself. 

Returning to their rooms the party passed 
through the front of the building, along which 
ran a cloister which seemed to add to its solemnity 
and gloom. Then they climbed an elegant stair- 
case on the summit of which was a room where 
Charles the Eighth passed many a lonely hour 
when a child, neglected by those who should have 
loved him. 

Pedro was not unhappy at Plessis-les-Tours, for 
he had found a source of joy to be obtained by all 
where books abound. He was fond of reading, 
though there had been few books in his home save 
the lives of the saints and other works of that 
description; but here was a library which be- 
longed to the king of France. These volumes had 
been placed on the shelves for the king’s enter- 
tainment when stopping at the castle, and Francis 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

perused them when tired of being amused in other 
ways. They were bound in morocco and sprinkled 
over with the fleur-de-lis in gold, and across some 
of them was a gold salamander. The fleur-de-lis, 
you must know, is the flower of France and the 
salamander, a kind of lizard supposed to live in the 
fire, had been chosen by the king as his device. 

Finding Pedro one day looking longingly at 
these books, Jeanne told him he could read such 
as interested him if he would be very careful of 
them. No one who truly loves books is inclined 
to abuse them and Pedro handled these volumes 
as if they had been precious jewels. Here the 
boy read legends of Charlemagne, that king who 
was so tall and strong that it is said few men of 
to-day could handle his sword; and he read of 
Arthur and his Round Table, of the knights who 
did so many deeds of valor, of the exploits of 
Richard Coeur de Lion and many other tales of 
adventure. Nothing that passed in the castle had 
a greater attraction for Pedro than these books, 
and with one of them on the table before him, 
with an elbow resting on either side of it and his 
head supported by his hands, the boy was deaf 
to all that passed around him. He felt that the 
stories themselves belonged to him as much as 
they did to his Majesty, for once fixed in his 
memory they never could escape him ; and Francis 
himself could say no more. 

But Petronilla was not contented at Plessis-les- 


THE PRINCESS JEANNE OF NAVARRE 

Tours. She could amuse herself very well during 
the day, but she was very lonely at night. Her 
room was so large and so gloomy it seemed to her 
that the dark, heavy hangings of the huge bed 
would shut out the angels that her mother had told 
her would keep guard over her at night. 

There was a piece of tapestry on the wall repre- 
senting a grotesque dwarf, and if she woke in the 
night she could see by the dim light left in the 
room this ugly being winking and blinking and 
making faces at her. Then the owls shrieked in 
such a doleful way they made her blood curdle. 
Of course she knew they meant no harm by it, and 
that owls must shriek occasionally to relieve their 
feelings; but hearing them here, all alone as she 
was, with no mother in the next room to comfort 
her when she was frightened, the effect was very 
doleful. The little girl wished that she had never 
heard of Louis the Eleventh and of the men he had 
hanged in the forest, for such things are not pleas- 
ant to ponder about after one has retired at night. 
If the Count de Saint-Victor had not gone away 
the day after their arrival she would have com- 
plained to him of her loneliness at night; but now 
there was no one to whom to confide her woes with 
any hope of having them banished. Help came 
at last from an unexpected quarter. 

One night, dreading to enter her room where 
the maid was waiting to undress her, Petronilla 
sank into a little heap on the floor outside the 

209 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


door and began to cry. She did not want to go 
to bed, — she wanted to go home and see her 
mother. She was so homesick she felt that even 
one of Aunt Catalina’s well-remembered cuffs on 
the ear would be almost welcome. As she was 
sobbing and telling herself in her own mind that 
she was the unhappiest little girl alive, Fabien 
came swaggering along the hall, taking up by 
his stride as much room as could be filled by one 
boy of his size. Fabien was not a favorite with 
the princess, though she tolerated him because 
she was fond of his grandmother. And the boy 
was not an enthusiastic admirer of the princess. 
In her presence he was obliged to be quiet and 
respectful, and Fabien was never quite happy 
when he was behaving himself. 

^What is the matter? What are you crying for, 
great baby?” he asked, pausing beside Petronilla. 

— I — want to go home! I want to see my 
mother; and I do not want to go to bed,” she 
replied, struggling to keep her voice from becom- 
ing a loud wail of misery. 

‘Wou are too big a girl to want your mother,” 
replied he with a swagger. 

“No girl ever is too big to want her mother,” 
retorted Petronilla, wiping her eyes; “no, not if 
she is old and gray.” 

“If she is old and gray she is not a girl,” ob- 
served Fabien. “But why do you not want to 
go to bed?” 


SIO 


THE PRINCESS JEANNE OF NAVARRE 

“Because this room is so big and so lonely, and 
I can not help thinking about Louis the Eleventh.” 

“What makes you want to think about that sort 
of thing?” asked Fabien contemptuously. “Did 
you not get enough of history with Brother 
Francois without letting it worry you after you 
go to bed?” 

“You can say what you like,” said Petronilla, 
“but it is no disgrace to think of him. Her High- 
ness says she thinks about King Louis a great deal 
and of all the people he caused to be drowned in 
the river and hanged to the forest trees and shut 
up in cages. Why, at the end of the terrace walk 
there is a vault where a cardinal was shut up for 
eleven years for telling the king’s secrets!” - 

“Well, I expect he deserved it. People have no 
business telling other people’s secrets. I never do.” 

“When I go to bed, Fabien, I can not help 
thinking of all these terrible things.” 

“King Louis is dead and has been a good many 
years,” replied Fabien, showing more common 
sense than he usually displayed. “He can not 
drown you, or hang you, or put you in a cage; and 
nobody else is going to do it. So why cry your 
eyes out about something that can not happen?” 

“But my room is so big and so lonesome!” 
sobbed the little girl, refusing to be comforted. 

“I’ll tell you what you can do as well as not,” 
said the boy. “There is a room in my grand- 
mother’s suite you can have. It is next to her bed- 

211 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

room and you can leave the door open at night. 
She will not mind.” 

“But her things' are there and she uses it as a 
dressing-room.” 

“She can take her things out, then,” replied 
Fabien confidently. “Never you mind, I will fix 
it all right. I will tell her that I can not sleep for 
thinking about you, because you are so lonely, and 
she knows that loss of sleep makes my head ache ; 
and after that she would give you her own bed if 
you wanted it.” 

“But that would not be true and you shall not 
tell her a falsehood on my account. Why, Brother 
Frangois — ” 

“Oh, who cares for Brother Frangois! And it 
would be the truth. If I want to I can stay awake 
to think about you and it would give me the head- 
ache, too. Come along, we will ask her about it 
this minute.” 

“No, no, I can not. Felice is waiting to undress 
me.” 

Fabien peeped through the door. “Felice is 
asleep and snoring. Come.” 

“But my eyes are red, I know.” 

“I know it, too, and so is your nose for that 
matter; but who cares?” 

And without more words he grabbed her by 
the wrist and pulled her along to his grand- 
mother’s rooms. 

“Here is Nilla, who can not sleep and is lonely 


THE PRINCESS JEANNE OF NAVARRE 

on account of Louis the Eleventh!” cried Fabien, 
bursting into his grandmother’s room and announc- 
ing the object of his visit in the same moment. 

‘‘Oh, my darling!” said the marquise, who was 
looking through her jewel-box and laying its con- 
tents one by one against a piece of crimson taffeta 
to see which would go with it best. “My dearest 
boy, you are so impulsive! When will you learn 
not to enter a room if as you had been shot from 
an arquebus? But what is the matter with Nilla, 
and what has she to do with King Louis?” 

“Indeed, Madame, it is not by my own will 
that I am here,” said the little girl. 

“But it is by mine,” declared Fabien. “She is 
lonesome away off there by herself, and I want 
her to have this room next to yours.” 

Fabien did not need to add the little fiction 
about the headache, for his grandmother was de- 
lighted to see that he had a thought for the comfort 
of another. “What a kind heart you have, dearie!” 
she said. “There are few boys who would be so 
thoughtful. I rather liked that little room as a 
dressing-room, but I can use the one on the other 
side and I shall have a bed put in it to-night. It 
is too bad to have Nilla sleep so far away from 
me; I was very, very careless not to think of it 
before.” 

So from that time Petronilla slept next door to 
the marquise and when she woke in the night the 
old lady’s loud breathing was music to her ears, 
213 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

for she knew there was a human being within 
speaking distance and she was no longer afraid. 
The incident also shed a new light upon Fabien’s 
character, showing that the boy was not altogether 
selfish, as she had supposed him to be. 


214 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE VISIT OF FRANCIS THE FIRST 

The weeks passed peacefully on. The Princess 
Jeanne was happy with her new companions, who 
often made her laugh, while she had a better 
appetite than formerly and could now fall with 
ease into the natural sleep of childhood. But she 
did not dream of the trouble that was being 
brewed for her at this time by the King of France, 
with the consent of her royal mother, for the 
king’s sister agreed with him fully upon all sub- 
jects. 

The little princess was soon to learn the plans 
which had been made for her future. One fine 
morning when it pleased Jeanne to work at her 
embroidery, surrounded by her ladies engaged in 
the same occupation, the sound of a horn was 
heard in the courtyard below, and with a cry of 
delight the princess sprang to her feet and ran to 
a window. 

“A royal messenger!” she cried. “He brings 
news from the king, my uncle.” 

This was indeed the case. The king had been 
stopping for a time at his palace of Amboise and 
was hunting that day along the banks of the Loire. 

215 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


The royal messenger brought the news that his 
Majesty was pleased to pay a visit to the Princess 
Jeanne, and was even then on his way to the castle 
of Plessis-les-Tours. 

Everybody under that roof was excited, from 
the lowest scullion to the haughtiest maid-of- 
honor, and little Jeanne was in an ecstasy of de- 
light, for she loved her uncle and she hoped he 
would bring her some good news, — the best of 
which would be that she should join her parents, 
and the next best that she should go with her suite 
to the Court of France. 

The marquise was busily engaged in putting on, 
with the assistance of her maid, the gown she had 
ordered for the occasion when the king should 
honor his niece with a visit; and, in fact, all the 
ladies were putting themselves in gorgeous array, 
each striving to look her very best. 

Finding they were not needed, or even remem- 
bered by anybody, the twins slipped away. They 
mounted a dozen steps of a spiral staircase that 
led to a window commanding a view of the court- 
yard and there awaited the coming of the royal 
party. 

“This is not the first time we have waited for 
people to come from a distance,” said the little 
girl. “The first was Monsieur de Beaurepas. 
What a wonderful thing his coming was to us! 
And now we would not look out of the window 
to watch for just a common doctor! Afterward we 

216 


THE VISIT OF FRANCIS THE FIRST 

watched for the marquise and Fabien, and now 
we are expecting the King of France!” 

“One of the greatest kings alive!” added Pedro. 

Soon a horn was heard and a company of gen- 
tlemen dashed over the drawbridge and into the 
courtyard. 

“The king and his suite!” cried Petronilla, add- 
ing disappointedly: “There are not more than 
twenty of them, and Guillot told us that the King 
of France traveled about with thousands of men 
to guard him and with the whole court.” 

“But madame told me,” replied Pedro, “the 
messenger informed her that none but his Majes- 
ty and a few of his gentlemen were to be here 
to-day.” 

“Now I wonder which is the king. If he only 
had his crown on his head we could easily tell. 
I am sure that short gentleman with light hair 
must be the king. Is he not beautiful? Nobody 
but a king could look like that, for all kings are 
beautiful, of course. His face is red and white 
like lilies and roses.” 

“A king must look as the good God made him,” 
said Pedro wisely. “Look! That is the king who 
is now dismounting, for the other gentlemen have 
removed their hats, while he still wears his own.” 

“That tall man with the big nose!” ejaculated 
his sister. “Oh, no, it can not be.” 

“But it is,” insisted Pedro; “do you not see how 
all are waiting for him and looking at him, and 
217 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

one of the gentlemen offers him his arm to lean 
on, while another fastens the buckle of his shoe? 
And you know Guillot told us that the king has 
the largest nose in France.” 

^‘Yes, I remember now; and Guillot bragged 
about it as if it were an honor to have a large nose, 
just as if everybody could not have one.” 

“How foolish you are! Of course everybody 
could not have a large nose.” 

“Yes, they could.” 

“Could you change yours?” 

“No, of course not,” she returned, smoothing 
that straight little feature with her forefinger. 

“Then why do you say that any one else could?” 

“I did not mean that any one could go to work 
and change his own nose. I meant that a peasant 
could have a big nose as well as a king.” 

“Then you should say just what you mean when 
you talk.” 

It was odd that upon so momentous an occasi(^n 
as the arrival of a king the Velasco twins should 
become absorbed in an argument upon a subject 
so trivial ; it can only be excused by the trite expla- 
nation that children will be children. 

“Lenoir’s nose is every bit as big as the king’s,” 
went on the little girl. “I wonder why the good 
God did not make kings and queens so different 
from other people that one could tell them at 
once?” 

“Why do you not look well at the king, now that 

218 


THE VISIT OF FRANCIS THE FIRST 


you have a chance, instead of wondering about 
matters nobody can explain?” asked her brother. 

So Petronilla remained silent and turned all her 
attention to the king, whom historians have styled 
“the courtly and magnificent monarch of the 
Renaissance.” He was tall and strong, with bold 
features, closely-clipped hair and a pointed beard. 
He wore a hunting-suit of dark green velvet em- 
broidered with silver, a green velvet hat, the brim 
of which was thickly set with jewels, which 
sparkled and glowed in the bright sunlight, while 
a jeweled chain with a large ornament attached 
hung about his neck. The gentlemen of the king’s 
suite were scarcely less splendidly attired, for it 
was a period when much attention was paid to 
dress, and when men gave as much thought to 
their appearance as the women could possibly do. 

Francis the First seemed to be in a very good 
humor this morning, as though matters were going 
Vi^ry well with him. He chatted with the gentle- 
men who walked on either side of him and as they 
disappeared through an arched doorway his loud 
laugh rang out and echoed down the corridors. 

Petronilla drew a deep sigh of satisfaction. “Is 
it not a fine thing to see a king with one’s own 
eyes?” said she. 

“I wonder what Jules would say if he knew that 
we had seen the King of France,” said Pedro. 
“How I wish we could run home and tell them 
about it, for there is not half the pleasure in see- 
319 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


ing wonderful things if you can not tell somebody 
about them.” 

“Let us write a letter for our mother to read 
to them all in the kitchen,” suggested Petronilla 
at once. 

“That is a good idea, if we knew any one to 
send it by, but there is nobody going that way that 
we are acquainted with.” 

His sister’s countenance fell. “Well, we each 
can be writing a letter anyway, whenever we feel 
like it, — and we will tell everything strange that 
we have seen from the very first, — and then if 
we find some one who is going that way we can 
send it home.” 

Francis did not remain long at the abode of his 
niece. The princess was summoned to his presence 
and talked with him for some time, after which 
a splendid collation was served; and then the king 
and his gentlemen galloped gaily away, to be 
joined by his hundreds of horsemen with their 
hawks and hounds in the forest, whence the faint 
sound of horns could be heard. All life seemed 
to disappear from the castle as the last glimpse 
of waving plumes could be seen on the draw- 
bridge, and the Velasco twins expressed a wish 
that they could live at court, where everything 
was lively and where the king and his merry party 
were always present. 

But the ruler of France had left a cyclone be- 
hind him in the old palace-castle of Plessis-les- 

320 


THE VISIT OF. FRANCIS THE FIRST 

Tours, — a storm the effects of which were felt by 
all who dwelt beneath its ancient roof. 

^‘Oh, my dears,” said the marquise to the twins, 
“something dreadful has happened! Her High- 
ness, the princess, has seriously offended her royal 
uncle.” 

“But she seemed to love him so much, Ma- 
dame,” said Petronilla. 

“And so she always has, but now he wants her 
to be married; and the idea is nfiost distasteful to 
her.” 

“To be married! Why, she is not as tall as I 
am !” 

“True, she is nothing but a child, but his 
Majesty thinks it best for her to marry the Duke 
of Cleves, who is a fine, handsome man, and for 
reasons of state the marriage will be most pleasing 
to the King of France. But when he mentioned 
his plans to her the princess burst out crying and 
begged her uncle not to force her to wed Monsieur 
de Cleves. The king was angry, for, you see, he 
is not accustomed to having any one say no to 
what he proposes. He has commanded that we 
shall set out for Paris at once, where her High- 
ness will be presented to the bridegroom.” 

“Are we all going, Madame?” asked Petro- 
nilla. 

“Yes; the whole household, except some of the 
servants.” 

We are all human, and, in spite of the fact that 
221 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


Jeanne was in great trouble, the twins experienced 
a wild throb of delight at the prospect of seeing 
Paris, — a city which they believed to be an earthly 
paradise. 

The marquise went on talking about the effects 
of the king’s visit. “Madame de Silly has told 
her Highness that if she behaves in this manner 
she will not produce a very favorable impression 
upon her future husband; but she says she does 
not care and insists that she does not see the ad- 
vantage of leaving her own country to marry the 
Duke of Cleves.” 

“But our good queen will not let her daughter 
be married if it will make her so unhappy,” said 
Pedro. 

The marquise shook her head. “The Queen of 
Navarre loves her royal brother so much that her 
opinion is always the same as his own; and I 
believe that she would part with her daughter for 
ever if she thought that the king would be grati- 
fied by the separation. Speaking for myself, I 
do not see why any one should want to disobey the 
King of France, for a more affable monarch I 
would not wish to see. He is far more amiable 
than the King of Navarre, who is a very small 
king beside him. Just think of it! he actually told 
me to-day that he had heard I was possessed of 
great beauty in my youth, and he added with a 
perfectly radiant smile that there is a good deal 
of it left! Won’t that be a fine thing for Fabien 

ZZ2 


THE VISIT OF FRANCIS THE FIRST 


to tell his children and his grandchildren, as 
coming to his grandmother from Francis the First 
of France?’^ 

Petronilla thought there certainly was a good 
deal of the marquise left and she possessed the 
beauty of good-nature and of a warm heart, — a 
kind of loveliness which leaves its imprint upon 
the face and remains as long as life lasts. 

Though the time had been when Francis could 
not have his own way, as, for instance, on the field 
of Pavia, he could rule as he liked in his own 
country; and when he commanded that the house- 
hold at Plessis-les-Tours should be broken up and 
its inmates leave it for another abode, there was 
none to say him nay. This time all were glad of 
the change save the little princess, who insisted 
she was going to her doom. 

‘‘Very few people travel as much as we do,” 
said Petronilla, as they again set out on a journey. 
“Why, even Aunt Catalina has not traveled so 
much, though I ^m sure she would say that to see 
Queen Isabella was worth more than anybody or 
anything that we have seen.” 

The little girl was riding on a pillion behind 
her brother, and the twins were very happy at 
being thus close together and able to talk to each 
other, which they could do when riding a little 
apart from the others. 

“And every time we travel,” said Pedro, “we 
have more and more soldiers to guard us.” This 

223 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

was true. Their first journey had been taken in 
a style that had seemed to them to be splendid; 
their second was more gorgeous still, for it had 
been ordered by the queen of Navarre; but at 
present they were traveling by command of the 
King of France, and as there was in the party a 
princess of the blood-royal, everything was mag- 
nificent, from the gilded litters to the fine damask- 
eened arms of the horsemen, for they were not 
guarded altogether by common soldiers, but by 
men of noble birth. 

The journey to Paris was broken by stops at the 
mansions of the nobility along the way, where 
Princess Jeanne was feted as if she already were 
queen, though this did not seem to dispel the 
gloom that had settled upon her ever since she 
became acquainted with her uncle’s wishes. 

Jules and Guillot had said so much about the 
glories of Paris that the children would not have 
been surprised to find the city one glittering mass 
of gold, with its inhabitants clothed in gleaming 
robes and going in and out of jeweled doors. 
Naturally they were disappointed at what they 
really saw, for Paris, though a fine city, does not 
even to-day resemble the place pictured by the 
vivid imagination of the twins; and in the six- 
teenth century it was far less attractive, so far as 
mere beauty is concerned, than it is at present. 
There were a great many frame houses with huge 
roofs which jutted over the streets, resembling so 

224 


THE VISIT OF FRANCIS THE FIRST 


many small boys wearing their fathers’ hats. But 
an artist would have called much of it pictur- 
esque, — for instance, the caryatids, which are 
women holding the roof on their shoulders and 
always make some of us feel that they ought to be 
allowed to come down and rest a while; and the 
water-spouts, which were winged serpents and, 
when it rained, obligingly allowed the water to 
gush through their open mouths. 

Even though it was not the fairy city of their 
dreams, there were a great many wonderful things 
to see in Paris. There were monasteries surround- 
ed with flowers, where monks could see something 
of the beauties of this world while preparing 
themselves for the next; there were crooked streets 
where merchants had their shops; and there was 
the king’s palace, where he stayed when he felt 
so inclined, — which never was very long at a time, 
for Francis was restless and always moving about. 

But the people in the streets were a sight to 
behold. Nobles in glittering costume prancing 
on fiery horses; students shouting and laugh- 
ing as if life were given to them for no other 
purpose than to be happy in; grave monks in long 
black or white gowns, with cowl-covered heads, 
stealing in and out among the noisy crowd like 
ghosts; men who fasted and flogged themselves 
and were as anxious to be miserable as the students 
were to be happy, — yes, it was a strange place, this 
wonderful Paris, and often bewildering. 

225 


CHAPTER XX' 


A REBELLIOUS LITTLE PRINCESS 

Pedro and his sister were not present when, by 
order of the king, the Duke of Cleves was pre- 
sented to the Princess Jeanne of Navarre, but they 
saw him in the anteroom as he was coming out. 

‘‘The duke is very old for her Highness, is he 
not, Madame?” asked Petronilla of the marquise, 
who was always ready to indulge in a little inno- 
cent gossip. 

“He is twenty-four,” replied she; “that is just 
twice as old as the princess. You would not care 
to be twice as old as the lady you marry, would 
you, my boy?” she asked of Pedro. 

“No, Madame, but Monsieur de Cleves will 
never again be twice as old as her Highness.” 

“That is true,” replied the old lady, who was 
not very brilliant at figures and had not thought 
of this before. “He can only keep twelve years 
ahead of her, when all is said and done; so when 
she is thirty he will be but forty-two, which is not 
so great a difference, after all. His Majesty was 
very angry with the princess to-day, because her 
bearing toward Monsieur de Cleves was so cold 
and haughty,” went on the marquise. “She acted 

226 


A REBELLIOUS LITTLE PRINCESS 


as if he were not good enough even to touch the 
ground she treads on, whereas his family is a very 
good one. King Henry of England did not dis- 
dain Anne of Cleves, the sister of monsieur, for 
his consort.” 

“Is not Monsieur de Cleves afraid that the 
King of England will kill his sister, the queen, 
Madame?” asked Petronilla. 

“Of course not, my child; why should he fear 
anything of that kind?” 

“I have heard about Queen Anne Boleyn, 
Madame, and I thought perhaps he liked to kill 
his wives.’\ 

. “He does not seem to be very lucky with them, 
that is certain, for this one is his fourth; but let 
us hope, my dear, that Anne of Cleves will be 
his last!” — a hope that was not realized, for we 
know that Henry the Eighth had two more wives 
after this, one of whom he beheaded. 

The Princess Jeanne continued to be so obstinate 
regarding her marriage that there was a constant 
flutter of excitement among her attendants. It is 
not a simple matter to defy the king of one country 
and the queen of another, even though the queen 
be one’s own mother. 

Marguerite of Navarre wrote a long letter to 
Francis, in which she expressed herself as being 
unable to understand her daughter’s conduct. She 
stated that the King of Navarre was both aston- 
ished and grieved and that she hoped the King of 
22 ^ 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

France would forgive his niece for her obstinacy. 
A bishop brought this letter to Francis and re- 
turned with one to the queen, in which the king 
commanded that his sister should take Jeanne to 
Chatellerault, in order that the wedding might 
take place at once. 

One day Petronilla was alone with the princess. 
The latter was playing with Vif and trying to 
enjoy herself as a child should without being 
troubled by thoughts of the future, when suddenly 
the door opened and a tall and elegantly-dressed 
lady entered the room. 

It was the Queen of Navarre, but her costume 
was so rich and so different from the plain attire 
in which she usually dressed in her own realm 
that Petronilla scarcely knew her. 

“My mother!” cried Jeanne in ecstasy. 

“My darling, my little one!” said the queen, 
clasping her daughter in her arms and kissing her 
a dozen times. “See, I have not sent for you to 
come to me. I have come to you to ask you, to 
implore you, to yield to his Majesty’s wishes. It 
is for your own happiness, could you but realize 
it.” 

It was strange to see how Jeanne froze at once 
at the mention of her marriage. “It will be of no 
advantage to me to leave France, to leave my 
own country of Navarre to marry a German 
duke,” she said. “And if you compel me to marry 
Monsieur de Cleves I shall die.” 

22S 


A REBELLIOUS LITTLE PRINCESS 


They seemed to forget Petronilla’s presence. 
Afraid to stay, yet afraid to leave the room without 
permission, she stood half-concealed behind a 
high-backed chair where, surprised and awed, she 
listened trembling to the war of words between 
this mother and daughter. 

Never would Petronilla have dared to address 
her mother in this manner, for Jeanne defied the 
queen to the last. Never, never, she declared, 
would she be married to the Duke of ClevesI Her 
mother wept and pleaded in vain. 

Finally Marguerite rose and said with flashing 
eyes, “There is but one measure to be tried, since 
reasoning and pleading are of no avail. You shall 
be treated as the peasant deals with his unruly 
child; you shall be severely whipped!” 

This threat was so terrible and so unexpected 
that Petronilla, whose heart was a very tender one 
and who pitied her little mistress deeply, sobbed 
aloud. 

Marguerite had started toward the door, but, 
hearing the sob, she turned and perceived the little 
Bearnaise trembling with fright. 

The queen’s brow knit into a frown for a mo- 
ment, then with the tips of her jeweled fingers she 
smoothed a curl from Petronilla’s forehead. 

“I had forgotten you, my little maid,” she said. 
“You have heard a heartbroken mother defied by 
her daughter. It is small wonder that the scene 
should have frightened you, my poor child.” 

229 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

Then, as if overcome by her own emotions, the 
queen abruptly left the room. 

It seemed to Petronilla that Jeanne surely must 
yield after hearing her mother’s threat, for in all 
ages and in all climes a threatened whipping ever 
has been a forceful argument. But the next day 
Jeanne showed her the following letter, composed 
by herself and written by her own hand. This 
document, which was witnessed by three members 
of her household and with which every one is 
familiar who has read her biography, was as 
follows : 


I, Jehanne de Navarre, persisting in the protestations I have already 
made, do hereby again affirm and protest, by these present, that the 
marriage which it is desired to contract between the Duke of Cleves and 
myself is against my will ; that I have never consented to it nor will con- 
sent ; and that all I may say and do hereafter, by which it may be 
attempted to prove that I have given my consent, will be forcibly ex- 
torted against my wish and desire from my dread of the king, of the 
king, my father, and of the queen, my mother, who has threatened to 
have me whipped by the Baillive de Caen, my governess. By the 
command of the queen, my mother, my said governess has also sev- 
eral times declared that if I do not all in regard to this marriage which 
the king wishes, and if I did not give my consent, I should be pun- 
ished so severely as to occasion my death ; and that by refusing I 
should be the cause of the ruin and total destruction of my father, my 
mother and their house ; the which has inspired me with such fear 
and dread even to be the cause of the ruin of my said father and 
mother, that I know not where to have recourse, excepting to God, 
seeing that my father and my mother abandon me, who both well 
know what I have said to them, — -that never can I love the Duke of 
Cleves and I will not have him. Therefore I protest beforehand if it 

230 


A REBELLIOUS LITTLE PRINCESS 


happens that I am affianced or married to the said Duke of Clevcs in 
any way or manner it will be against my heart and in defiance of my 
will ; and that he shall never become my husband nor will I hold and 
regard him as such, and that any marriage shall be reputed null and 
void ; in testimony of which I appeal to God and yourselves as wit- 
nesses of this my declaration that you arc about to sign with me, ad- 
monishing each of you to remember the compulsion, violence and con- 
straint employed against me upon the matter of this said marriage. 

Signed, 

Jehanne de Navarre, 

J. d’Arros, 

Francis Navarro, 

Arnauld Duquesse. 


To Petronilla this seemed to be the most won- 
derful letter ever written. She was sure that none 
but a princess of the blood-royal could have done 
as well. With a clean piece of parchment and a 
pen made from the best of quills she practised 
writing a protest for herself. She played that the 
King of France had commanded her to wed one of 
his own sons — which was somewhat ambitious on 
her part, even as a make-believe; but she found 
that not only did she fail to word it in dignified 
language, but she could only think of a few lines 
to write. So she made up her mind that one must 
really be in great trouble before one can write a 
long letter about it. 

In accordance with the command of Francis, the 
betrothal was celebrated at once at Alengon with 
much pomp and ceremony in the great hall of the 
chateau. But the little princess was determined to 

231 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


impress it upon the minds of all that this was di- 
rectly opposed to her will and she wrote another 
protest: 

I, Jehanne de Navarre, in the presence of you who out of love for 
the truth signed the protestation which I before presented and who 
perceive that I am compelled and obliged by the queen, my mother, 
and by my governess to submit to the marriage demanded by the 
Duke of Cleves between himself and me, and that it is intended 
against my will to proceed to the solenmity of marriage between us, I 
take you all to witness that I persevere in the protest I made before 
you on the day of the pretended betrothal between myself and the 
said Duke of Cleves and in all and every protestation that I may at 
any time have made by word of mouth or under my hand ; more- 
over, I declare that the said solemnity of marriage and every other 
thing ordained relative to it is done against my will and that all shall 
hereafter be regarded as null and void, as having been done and con- 
sented to by me under violence and restraint ; in testimony of which 
I call you all to witness, requesting you to sign the present with my- 
self in the hope that by God’s help it will one day avail me. 

Jehanne de Navarre, 

J. d’Arros, 

Francis Navarro, 

Arnauld Duquesse. 

Neither of these documents did the least bit of 
good, but sometimes when we are very angry or 
very unhappy, it is a comfort to write our woes 
down in black and white, even if we destroy the 
written complaint the next moment. So it is rea- 
sonable to suppose that these two declarations, 
made in the solemn form, and signed by witnesses, 
were a relief to Jeanne’s feelings, even though they 

232 


A REBELLIOUS LITTLE PRINCESS 


failed of accomplishing the end intended; but to 
the student of history they furnish another proof 
of the remarkable firmness of character she dis- 
played later in life. 

It was at Alengon that the twins first beheld the 
King of Navarre. He had arrived before the com- 
ing of Queen Marguerite, the princess and their 
suites, and he met them in a garden laid out in 
squares like a checker-board. In the Arsenal Li- 
brary at Paris there is a picture of him as he met 
the queen. It was painted by the order of Mar- 
guerite herself, and shows him to be a handsome 
man with light hair; he is holding in his hand a 
stiff flower resembling a dahlia, presumably in- 
tended for Queen Marguerite. 

“Her Highness is so quiet and so cold!” re- 
marked Petronilla to her brother after their arri- 
val at Chatellerault, where the marriage was to be 
celebrated. “When the queen, her mother, kisses 
her she merely turns her cheek without giving a 
kiss in return, though she is more affectionate to 
the king, her father. Sometimes we have been pro- 
voked with our mother when she punished us, but 
we never held out so long, did we, brother?” 

“No, and we were never angry for more than a 
day with Aunt Catalina, though she sometimes 
was very unkind to us,” replied Pedro. “I do not 
see why Monsieur de Cleves wants to marry our 
princess, since she hates him so much.” 

“Madame la Marquise says he does not care 
333 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

anything about her Highness one way or the 
other,” returned his sister; “so it makes very little 
difference to him what she says or does. It does not 
seem to be a family that anybody wants to marry 
into, for madame told me that the King of England 
was very sorry he had married the sister of 
Monsieur de Cleves, and would like a good excuse 
to break it off.” 

“Yes, Guillot told me about it; but he says it was 
because King Henry wanted a beautiful wife and 
was disappointed in her after having seen her por- 
trait, which flattered her.” 

“Then he was in the wrong, for you know 
Brother Frangois always told us we should not 
praise or condemn any one because of personal ap- 
pearance, since we do not make ourselves and we 
are not to blame if we are plain and we deserve no 
credit if we are beautiful.” 

This remark was delivered with an air of great 
wisdom, and there is no doubt that if “Burly King 
Hal” could have heard Petronilla’s opinion of 
him, and, hearing, had heeded it, the pages of his 
biography would not have been so exciting as they 
are at present. 


234 


CHAPTER XXI 


A CAPTIOUS BRIDE, A GORGEOUS WEDDING, AND A 
HUNT WITH HAWK AND HOUNDS 

Even to be in an ordinary house when a wed- 
ding is about to take place is a most delightful ex- 
perience; to be in a palace on the eve of the mar- 
riage of a princess, when among the guests are to 
be a great king with his queen and his brilliant 
court, is almost as wonderful and beautiful as a 
trip to fairy-land. Besides this, the bride was a 
child who was about to be led to the altar, not be- 
cause she was willing to be married, but because 
she was afraid of a whipping! — ^well, the Velasco 
twins were in the midst of strange events I 

The Princess Jeanne had not ceased to implore 
her uncle to break off the match, but Francis only 
laughed and told her that little girls did not know 
what was best for them. 

The duke tried to gain a friendly glance or 
a smile from his bride-to-be, but she snubbed him 
so severely that he contented himself with the so- 
ciety of her mother, whom he greatly admired. 
No doubt he devoutly wished that she had taught 
her daughter to be as agreeable as she was her- 
self. 


235 


iTHE QUEEN’S PAGE 


The sky was fair on the wedding-day, and the 
sun itself seemed no brighter than the jewels that 
sparkled everywhere. All through the palace 
could be heard the buzz and bustle of prepara- 
tion, but the most stirring incidents were occur- 
ring in the apartment of the bride. 

In spite of the great ladies who surrounded her, 
Jeanne insisted that Petronilla should keep close 
to her side, and the little girl watched the progress 
of the gorgeous toilet so often described in history. 
It is safe to say that never was a magnificent 
gown slipped over the head of a more captious and 
irritable bride. Jeanne found fault with each and 
every article as it was brought forth ; and had she 
been of a less exalted station she doubtless would 
have been soundly shaken for her peevishness. 
Her bridal robe was so resplendent that Petronilla 
wondered how any girl, even a princess, could 
fail to be delighted with it. This robe was of cloth 
of gold so thickly set with gems that it gave Jeanne 
the appearance of a jewel, scintillating flashes 
from a thousand facets. 

“Why are you so unhappy, Madame?” whis- 
pered Petronilla to the princess, in order to com- 
fort her. “You are going to stay with her Majesty 
for years before his Grace, the duke, will come to 
take you away, and — and — you have such beauti- 
ful things!” 

“I do not wish to be married,” snapped the 
princess so suddenly and so fiercely that Petro- 

236 


A BRIDE, A WEDDING AND A HUNT 

nilla felt as if she had been unexpectedly drenched 
with cold water. 

A ducal coronet, which was a mass of priceless 
jewels, was the last touch to be added to her toilet. 
As it was placed on her soft hair Jeanne gave a 
cry of pain and declared that it pressed her brow 
and made her head ache, — which was dpubtless 
true, though she would have found fault with it 
in any event. 

History tells us there was as much display at the 
wedding of this little girl as there would have been 
for the coronation of a great king. Surrounded by 
all the ladies of the court and in the presence of 
the officers of state, the princess was led to the 
chapel, where she was to be allowed to sit until she 
should be met by her royal uncle. 

Francis himself, in robes of state all a-glitter 
with gems, then came to lead his niece to the altar. 
One would have supposed that the little lady 
might have been awed by being the observed of all 
observers in this splendid company, but Jeanne 
was thinking of her own affairs and did not for a 
moment forget to be obstinate. 

When the king extended his hand she partly 
rose from her chair and then sank down again. “I 
am ill,” she said, ‘‘and I can not carry all these 
jewels I” 

Francis was annoyed almost beyond endurance. 
He had a violent temper, and when angry was in 
the habit of storming and throwing the furniture 
237 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


about. That is probably what he would have done 
in the present instance had the occasion been less 
solemn. But with courtiers around him who trem- 
ble at his frown, it is very easy for a king to vent 
his spite, even if he can not express his feelings by 
smashing things. 

Francis had a grudge against the Constable de 
Montmorency, and now was the time for revenge. 

“Take up the princess in your arms and carry 
her!” commanded the king. 

The constable was very high-tempered and very 
haughty, but he was obliged to obey; and so the 
first man of the kingdom was forced to play the 
part of nurse-maid! It is difficult to imagine his 
feelings as he stooped to lift Jeanne in his arms, 
for he probably knew that there were others in 
that assembly besides the king who would secretly 
exult at his discomfiture. 

Petronilla expected to see the princess struggle 
and try to slip to the fioor, but she seemed at last 
to realize the fact that it was useless to offer fur- 
ther opposition and remained perfectly quiet, a 
sparkling bundle in the arms of the humiliated 
Montmorency. 

The marriage was performed by a great dig- 
nitary of the Church, assisted by others almost as 
great, and then followed a magnificent banquet, 
and later a ball. 

Jeanne declared, now she was married ac- 
cording to the wishes of the King of France, 
238 


•»( 




•>A ' 




Ml 


rhe Princess remained perfectly quiet, a sparkling bundle in the arms 
of the humiliated Montmorency Page 2j8 



A BRIDE, A WEDDING AND A HUNT 

there was really no necessity for her to appear at 
the ball. His Majesty thought otherwise, how- 
ever, and commanded her to come to the ball. The 
princess obeyed, and among her attendants were 
the Velasco twins, gorgeously attired and possibly 
the happiest in that company, for it was the very 
first ball they ever had witnessed. 

The festivities did not cease with the ball, but 
continued for more than a week; and to pay for it 
all, the duty was raised on salt, and the people 
contributed when they seasoned their food. For 
that reason Jeanne’s wedding was called les noces 
sallies^ or salted wedding. 

On the day after the wedding his Majesty or- 
dered a hunt, for he never was happier than when 
engaged in the chase. Probably a more dazzling 
hunting party never was gathered together than 
was seen on that sunny morning at the palace of 
Chatellerault. 

Francis was mounted on a fiery steed of Andalu- 
sia. The horse himself, of noble race, covered 
with a silken net, with plumes waving above his 
ears, seemed to realize the richness with which he 
was caparisoned and that his rider was the king 
of France, for he arched his neck proudly and 
caracoled in his impatience to obey the sound of 
the horns. Although there was a troop of falcon- 
ers with the guards and huntsmen, the king bore 
on his embroidered hunting-glove his own hooded 
hawk, which was expected to do its duty when the 
239 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


proper time arrived, as became all faithful sub- 
jects of the sovereign. 

At the king’s right hand rode Queen Eleanor. 
This royal lady was the sister of Charles the Fifth 
of Spain, and before her marriage with Francis 
she had been the widow of the King of Portugal. 
From him she had received so many jewels that 
their size and value astonished even the French 
courtiers, who, one would suppose, were accus- 
tomed to see all that was gorgeous in that line. We 
are told that she often wore a pair of diamond ear- 
rings the size of walnuts, — a statement difficult to 
believe, for a queen is only mortal, after all, and 
her ears are not specially prepared to bear weights 
so heavy. If they must be compared to a nut let 
us call them the size of a filbert, and even if that 
were the real size of the jewels it is safe to say the 
queen was not always happy when she was wear- 
ing them. Queen Eleanor was still a pretty wom- 
an, though no longer in the first bloom of youth, 
and this morning she was handsomer than usual 
with the feathered brim of her hat — trimmed in 
imitation of the king’s — shading her dark hair and 
her cheeks glowing with the caresses of the balmy 
air. 

On the other side of Francis rode Catherine de’ 
Medici, who was the wife of his son and heir, the 
Dauphin Henri. The young readers of this story 
later will learn from their histories of the wicked 
deeds planned and executed by this woman when 

240 


A BRIDE, A WEDDING AND A HUNT 

she became Queen of France. But at this time she 
was but a girl in years, and had done nothing 
really wrong, though one can not tell if there were 
not even then various dark schemes for the future 
revolving themselves in her mind. She did every- 
thing in her power to flatter her royal father-in- 
law and always went with him to the chase, some 
have said to be near him and watch him. 

Catherine, who in her childhood was called 
la duchessina, the little duchess, was an Italian, 
and though she had in her veins the blood of two 
popes, there were also merchants in her family. 
As the Velasco twins were sometimes reminded of 
their goldsmith’s blood, Catherine never was al- 
lowed to forget that she was the descendant of 
men who were not of noble birth, but who had en- 
riched themselves by buying and selling. Perhaps 
“two kinds of blood” made her the more intelli- 
gent, as it sharpened the wits of Pedro and Pet- 
ronilla, for she brought about a number of changes 
in the manners and customs of the French. It was 
she who introduced the side-saddle as we have it 
to-day; before that time ladies’ saddles were made 
in such a manner that the rider was obliged to sit 
with her face toward the side of the horse, with 
her feet on a little board, which was anything but 
comfortable, as our girl readers will find should 
they ever take a ride in the environs of Tangier, a 
city where most things are centuries behind the 
time. 


241 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


Wc arc told that Catherine’s appetite was 
‘‘enormous,” which accounts for the many delica- 
cies she suggested to the palace cooks, as we al- 
ready have seen. 

Catherine de’ Medici was not pretty; she was not 
even pleasing, with her flat face and her large eyes 
showing too much of their whites, like the eyes of 
a fractious horse; but she could be most agreeable 
when it suited her, and at this period of her exist- 
ence it was her aim to please the king and every- 
body of whom he was fond. 

The dauphin, Catherine’s husband, was the 
handsomest of Francis’ sons, but he was not a fa- 
vorite with his father, because he saw in him a re- 
minder that he must one day give place to another. 

The King and Queen of Navarre also were of 
this noble company, and the Duke and Duchess of 
Cleves, the sulky little bride scarcely vouchsafing 
her husband a word. And in her train rode Pedro, 
Petronilla and Fabien, the three children looking 
at the splendor about them and eagerly awaiting 
the sport without perceiving the evidences of envy 
and ill-feeling which were always to be seen at 
court. 

“The falconer allowed me to hold the king’s 
hawk on my own hand this morning,” said Fabien 
exultingly. “Its hood is embroidered in gold and i 
pearls and the bells on its legs are of gold with the 
king’s name on them. Every strap that holds one ^ 
of his hawks has a gold ring on it and on each one 1 

242 J 


A BRIDE, A WEDDING AND A HUNT, 

is engraved, ‘I belong to the king.’ And just think 
of it, he has sixty hounds 1 I wish I had been a 
king instead of a marquis.” 

“How glad I am that our princess decided to 
hunt to-day!” remarked Pedro; “otherwise we 
should have been obliged to remain in the palace 
with her Highness.” 

“She did not want to come,” said his sister, “al- 
though she is fond of the chase. But her Majesty, 
the Queen of Navarre, told her that she must do 
so, else the king, her uncle, would be very angry.” 

“Just think of anybody’s refusing to hunt!” ex- 
claimed Fabien. “Why, I was so afraid that some- 
thing would happen to prevent our. coming that I 
was almost ill, and I called to Guillot to go to the 
window at least a dozen times during the night to 
see what he thought of the weather.” 

“I thought the Count de Saint-Victor lived at 
the court of France,” said Petronilla, “but I have 
not seen him since we have been here.” 

“The king has sent him away, to Spain, I think, 
though I am not sure,” said Fabien. “He will be 
gone for some time, and my grandmother says that 
when he returns he will bring a bride with him. 
She would not tell me the bride’s name, for she 
said it was to be a surprise to the three of us. I had 
promised you, Nilla, that I would not tell what 
we know, or I would have told her that it will 
surprise us not at all! Your good times will be 
ended when your aunt comes, you can make up 
243 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

your mind to that. If she had been here to-day she 
would not have permitted you to hunt, just be- 
cause she would know it would almost break your 
hearts not to come.” 

^‘You talk very foolishly, Fabien,” said Pedro. 
“You know very well that we should be obliged to 
obey her Highness in any case, and even our aunt, 
when she comes, must sometimes do as she is told, 
whether she likes it or not.” 

It was very difficult for Petronilla to imagine 
Aunt Catalina at the court of France. Would her 
aunt wear gorgeous gowns such as the other ladies 
wore? Would she have a hat with a feathered 
brim, such as they wore in imitation of the queen 
who imitated the king? The little girl felt that 
such a costume would not be at all suitable to Aunt 
Catalina. The marquise had told her that some of 
the ladies wore wigs, and that one of them kept a 
footman with light hair on purpose to clip his 
locks occasionally in order to furbish up her wig; 
it might be that her aunt would wear false hair 
which would look better than her own under the 
feathered hat. “It will be very strange to see our 
aunt among the court ladies,” she said aloud, “but 
we will tell her all that we have learned and wifi 
try to help her all we can, for it is sometimes very 
difficult to know how to act at court.” 

This remark was not heard by her companions, 
for the dogs were running about and giving vent 
to shrill yelps, while the varlets were calling the 

244 


A BRIDE, A WEDDING AND A HUNT 

dogs and the huntsmen were calling the varlets, 
making altogether such a hubbub that nobody 
could hear what was said by anybody else. 

The wings of the hawk on the king’s wrist quiv- 
ered with excitement. Her quarry was near; soon 
would she be allowed her freedom, when out into 
the glad air she would dart and make the prey her 
own. 

Then from the thicket flew a heron in an agony 
of fear and shot skyward. Quickly and deftly, and 
at the proper momenf — for he was called the king 
of sportsmen — Francis unhooded his hawk, which 
with a piercing cry mounted the air in the wake of ^ 
its victim. Up and up soared the heron as if to 
hide himself in the mists of the clouds from his 
pitiless enemy, which with sweeping wings fol- 
lowed close behind him. 

‘^Oh, I hope he will escape!” thought Petro- 
nilla, whose tender little heart ached for this crea- 
ture, trying so hard to save itself from death. But 
it is to be feared that Pedro, as well as Fabien, 
would have been very much disappointed at such 
a result, so greatly does the instinct of the sports- 
man dominate all promptings of mercy. 

Mounting higher and still higher the heron was 
every moment growing smaller; his enemy, too, 
was rapidly diminishing in size and only the 
faintest possible tinkle of her golden bells could be 
heard. Soon the two birds were no more than 
mere specks in the sky, but it could be seen that 
245 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


the pursuer was gaining rapidly and the spectators 
breathlessly awaited the result. Then suddenly 
and swiftly, and like an arrow from the bow, the 
hawk shot above her prey, hovered there for an 
imperceptible space of time, as if in exultation, 
then swooped upon it — and the heron was van- 
quished. 

It was splendid sport, they all said; the varlets, 
the huntsmen and even the courtiers shouted, and 
the king, when his bird was returned to him, 
stroked her feathers fondly, well pleased with her 
aerial victory. But Petronilla shuddered and 
thought only of the poor heron which had made so 
brave a struggle for its life. 

It is probable that, as the day advanced, and 
bird after bird was slain by its pursuer, none en- 
joyed the pastime more than Catherine de’ Medici, 
who, in after years, was to stand in the window of 
her palace to listen for the cries of the human vic- 
tims slain at her instigation, and as innocent of 
real wrong as the frightened herons brought to 
earth by the king’s hawks. 

At the banquet that evening the children had 
places at the table with the other attendants of the 
princess. At the upper end of the room was the 
table prepared for royalty, who sat only on one 
side of it, to leave the view free for what was going 
on in the room ; for there often were various amuse- 
ments prepared for the king to enjoy while at 
table. 


246 


A BRIDE, A WEDDING AND A HUNT 

Behind Francis stood his grand cup-bearer, a 
very pompous-appearing individual, who held the 
ewer and the silver basin filled with perfumed 
water for the king’s hands, and poured his wine 
from an odd kind of pitcher like a two-handled 
vase. On the floor at the corner of the festive 
board was Brusquet, the king’s fool, whose busi- 
ness it was to make his Majesty laugh. He was 
never told to be silent, could talk all the time, if 
he liked, and say what he chose about anybody. 

A band of minstrels played during the meal, 
making what was considered very tuneful music, 
though it is doubtful if we should appreciate it 
to-day. When the music ceased a company of 
maskers came in; these performers wore birds’ 
heads and danced about, probably in imitation of 
a play given by the Greeks nearly two thousand 
years earlier. 

Francis laughed very heartily at these antics, 
and so did every one else, but they would have 
done so whether they had been amused or not, 
since at court every one must laugh or cry with the 
king. 


CHAPTER XXII 


HIS majesty's golden pheasant 

In the grounds of Chatellerault, galleries and 
triumphal arches were constructed and here jousts 
and tourneys were held. Tents were made of 
green boughs with the arms of the knights outside, 
and in little booths were men clad as hermits, 
whose duty it was to serve as guides. The gentle- 
men were dressed as knights of old and the ladies, 
who also had their own booths and grottos, were 
in the costumes of nymphs and dryads. Old chron- 
iclers tell us that it was one of the most magnifi- 
cent sights that had ever been seen when the 
knights came forth and fought in their glittering 
armor, and the ladies from their verdant galleries 
clapped theii; jeweled hands in applause. 

At the close of the day, when the lords and the 
ladies, fatigued with sport, followed the example 
of the king and sought their apartments for rest, 
Pedro, Petronilla and Fabien lingered together 
under the trees to talk over the wonders of the day, 
for you may be sure there was a great deal for 
them to discuss at this time. As they were com- 
mending the dexterity of this or that knight, they 
saw approaching them a scullion who, after many 

248 


HIS MAJESTY’S GOLDEN PHEASANT 

bows and much embarrassment — for he was not 
accustomed to addressing people who were clad in 
silks and satins — indicated that he had something 
to say to them. 

“I wonder what this booby really wants,” said 
Fabien as coolly as if the boy had been a dog who 
could not understand him. 

“I gave myself the liberty of crossing the court- 
yard” — stammered the scullion, then stopped, too 
confused to continue. 

^‘You need not come to us to make excuses about 
it, my good fellow,” said Fabien, “we do not own 
this palace and it does not concern us if you cross 
the courtyard every minute from now until you 
die of old age.” 

“Is it forbidden to the servants to enter the 
courtyard?” asked Pedro. “I do not see how they 
could come in and out any other way.” 

“Perhaps they are expected to let themselves 
down from an outside window,” giggled Fabien. 

“It is not forbidden, gracious master, oh, no, it 
is not forbidden in the least,” murmured the scul- 
lion, wriggling about uneasily and seeming at a 
loss what to do with his hands. 

“Then why do you come to us about it?” asked 
Pedro. 

The scullion looked up at the sky, then down at 
the ground, then on both sides of him, and blurt- 
ed out: “I met him in the courtyard and he wants 
to see you.” 


249 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

“Somebody to see us?” asked Pedro. “Then 
why did you not say so? Send him along.” 

The fellow scampered off, glad to get away 
from these aristocratic folk who, he feared, were 
laughing at him. 

The winds of the evening were now beginning 
to sigh through the tops of the trees, and with a 
shiver Fabien asked: “What if it should be the 
man with the scar come to carry me uff ?” 

“He would not dare to come through the palace 
gates after us,” said Pedro; “besides, we are near 
enough to the sentry to call him. Do you not see 
him through the trees, pacing back and forth?” 

“I can not imagine who would want to see you,” 
remarked Fabien. “Of course,” he went on pom- 
pously, “there are a good many who always are 
wanting to see me.” 

Soon they saw coming through the trees a tall 
figure in the garb of the Franciscan Brotherhood, 
and even before he threw back his cowl they rec- 
ognized Brother Francois. 

Pedro and Petronilla plunged toward the good 
friar, ready to smother him with caresses, for 
never until this moment had they realized how 
fond they were of Brother Francois, who now was 
like a glimpse of home. 

The friar himself actually kissed each of them 
on the forehead, which was perhaps the first kiss 
he had ever given to any one and showed his deep 
affection for his former pupils. 

250 


HIS MAJESTY’S GOLDEN PHEASANT 

“And now tell us all about home, and first about 
our mother,” said Pedro. 

“The senora is in the best of health. Sometimes 
she is thoughtful and tells how she misses you, but 
I have found her at times singing over her needle- 
work as blithe as a bird.” 

“She can sing and be happy without us?” asked 
Petronilla in wonder. 

“And why not?” asked the friar. “Would you 
have her shed tears for you from morning until 
night?” Then he added: “And that excellent 
lady, your aunt, also is in the best of health and is 
very cheerful.” 

“We can understand why she is cheerful,” 
snarled Fabien. 

“Why?” asked Brother Francois. 

Petronilla gave the boy a sly pinch and, remem- 
bering his promise, he finished lamely, “Because 
she is so pious.” 

“Very true,” returned the friar, satisfied with 
the reply; “and may you never forget the real 
source of cheerfulness.” 

“Did you come all the way to this palace on pur- 
pose to see us. Brother Frangois?” asked Petro- 
nilla. 

“No, indeed ! It was only by the merest accident 
I learned that you were at the court of France.” 
Then he told them that he had been to Paris on 
business for his Order, and that he must soon 
leave them, as he was obliged to look for a friend 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


with whom he would pass the night. In the morn- 
ing early he must resume his journey homeward. 

It was fortunate that the twins had each a long 
letter written and ready to send to their mother, 
describing all the important events of their new^ 
life. These letters they intrusted to Brother Fran- 
cois, who promised them that as soon as their 
mother had read them he would himself take them 
to the kitchen and read them to Jules, Tomas, 
Olympie and all the rest. 

“I wish, Brother Frangois,” said Petronilla 
wistfully, “that we could give you some refresh- 
ments before you go, but I do not see how we could 
manage it.” 

The good friar begged her not to give herself 
any uneasiness on his account, but incidentally re- 
marked that he had fasted since early morning. 

“It would be a shame to have you go away from 
us hungry,” said Pedro, taking from his purse a 
gold piece that had been given to him some time 
before by the Count de Saint-Victor. “Fabien, can 
we not buy some food for Brother Frangois?” 

“Give me the money,” said Fabien, “and I will 
buy something for him. Go into this grotto, all of 
you, where you will not be seen, and I will have 
refreshments brought at once.” 

Fabien was so long away that Pedro said uneas- 
ily: “I am afraid he is playing us a trick. It 
would be like him not to come back at all and to 
return the money to me to-morrow morning.” 

252 


HIS MAJESTY’S GOLDEN PHEASANT 

“He could not be so cruel,” said Petronilla, 
while the countenance of Brother Frangois fell, 
for it is an uncomfortable thing to expect a good 
meal and then to stand face to face with the possi- 
bility of a disappointment. 

After a very long time, during which the twins 
grew more and more uneasy and the friar more 
and more hungry, Fabien appeared, accompanied 
by a servant who bore on a tray the long-expected 
refreshments. 

In the center of the grotto was a table made 
from the trunk of a tree, and before it was a rustic 
seat. 

After the servant had arranged the viands and 
had departed, Fabien told Brother Frangois to sit 
down and help himself. 

Their visitor needed no second bidding. There 
was a starling pie, a roast bird and a flagon of 
wine; and the odor of the smoking food was most 
appetizing. 

By this time it was dark and the only light was 
that of the moon, whose rays shone through an 
opening in the foliage full upon the table, but even 
without pale Luna’s light the monk would have 
done ample justice to the meal, which he enjoyed 
to the fullest extent. The roast bird was partic- 
ularly fine, being moistened with orange juice, 
powdered with sugar and flavored with spices; 
and he felt that, though he should do penance by 
a week of fasting for his pleasure in this de- 
253 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

licious repast, it would assuredly be well worth his 
while. 

“We thought you were not coming back again, 
Fabien,” said Petronilla, while their guest was 
thus pleasantly engaged. 

“I do not see why you should have thought so,” 
said the little marquis haughtily. “I told you I 
was going to find refreshments and I have brought 
them. Do I ever break my word?” 

“Yes, you do sometimes.” 

The boy blustered for a while, and then, as the, 
accusation was one he could not deny, he cooled 
down and said: “I had to wait a long while for 
that bird to cook. It had just been put on the spit 
when I went to the kitchen.” 

“Did you go to the kitchen?” asked Petronilla 
in surprise. 

“Of course. Where else would you go to find 
food? To the picture gallery?” 

“What kind of a bird is it, Fabien?” asked Pe- 
dro. 

“Never you mind what kind of a bird it is. It 
is pretty good, is it not. Brother Francois?” 

“It is delightful,” replied the friar, who, help- 
ing himself generously, did not seem at all curious 
regarding the richly-seasoned fowl placed before 
him. When his meal was finished he took his leave 
with many expressions of thanks to his young 
friends, who had been so thoughtful for his com- 
fort and had given him so royal a supper. 

254 


HIS MAJESTY’S GOLDEN PHEASANT 

‘T do not know what he would have said had he 
known what I do about that bird,” said Fabien 
with a titter, when the friar had left them. 

“What was there wrong about it? Oh, Fabien, 
was it poisoned?” asked Petronilla in horror. 

At this question the boy, and not without reason, 
fairly boiled with indignation. “Of what else are 
you going to accuse me? Why should I want to 
give Brother Frangois poisoned food? Am I a 
murderer?” 

“Oh, pardon me, Fabien,” cried Petronilla. 
“Of course I know you would not do such a thing, 
but I heard Madame say that poison often finds its 
way to a king’s kitchen. But tell me, was there 
anything wrong with the bird? You would not tell 
*’S what kind of a fowl it was.” 

“That was because I thought he would be afraid 
to eat it. When I went to the kitchen they were 
just putting on the spit a fine golden pheasant, 
which is the king’s own bird. When I start out to 
get a thing I believe in' always getting the best, so 
I offered the cook the gold piece for it. He said 
he did not dare to let me have it, for it was for the 
king’s own supper and was the only one at present 
in the larder, as there had been an accident of some 
kind with the others. 

“ ‘Does his Majesty expect a golden pheasant for 
supper to-night?’ I asked. The cook said no, that 
his Majesty knew nothing about it, nor did any 
one else, for that matter. Then give it to me,’ I 
255 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


said, ^and roast another bird for the king.’ He 
held out for a good while, but I held the gold 
piece so that the light would shine on it and the 
temptation was too great; so he let me have the 
golden pheasant and added the starling pie and the 
wine. I thought I should die of laughing when 
Brother Frangois called it a Toyal supper’, for 
that is what it was in reality.” 

very clever little conspiracy!” said a deep 
voice; and at the same time a tall form darkened 
the doorway of the grotto. 

The three children shrank together terrified, 
while the speaker leaned against one of the trees 
that formed the natural portal. His face they 
could not see, but a shaft of moonlight struck a 
chain about his neck and brought flashes of fire 
from the jewels on his hands. It was evidently one 
of the gentlemen of the court, who had overheard 
their conversation and who would tell the king of 
the robbery of his supper. The three children 
were very uncomfortable and wished themselves 
anywhere else than in that grotto at that particular 
moment. Fabien, who was always ready to plan 
mischief, was ever prone to shirk the consequences 
of his own misdoings and now his teeth were chat- 
tering with fear. 

‘T heard only the last sentence distinctly,” said 
ihe gentleman, ^‘but before that I thought I heard 
something about poison in the king’s kitchen. Was 
I right?” 


256 


HIS MAJESTY’S GOLDEN PHEASANT 

It was necessary for some one to answer this 
question, and Pedro came forward and stood in 
the full light of the moon. “That was but a fool- 
ish remark of my sister’s, Monsieur,” he said re- 
spectfully, and he was glad to know that his voice 
was steady; for, truth to tell, he was trembling in- 
wardly. 

“Suppose you tell me the whole story, eh?” said 
the unknown, whose head towered into the shad- 
ows an indistinct white blur, but whose slender 
beringed hand toyed with the ornament hanging 
to his neck-chain. “Begin at the beginning and 
tell me all the story,” he repeated, his voice pleas- 
ant and kindly. 

“It was this way. Monsieur,” said Pedro. “Our 
friend. Brother Frangois, came to see us from our 
home in Bearn. Always when he came to our own 
home we offered him refreshment and my sister 
said she was sorry we could not do so now, espe- 
cially since he had eaten nothing since morning 
and we knew that he ever had a good appetite. I 
had a gold piece with which I said I should like 
to buy a bite for him, and my friend took the 
money and went to the kitchen, where he bought 
a bird, a starling pie and some wine. He did not 
know what kind of bird it was, poor Brother 
Frangois! and he enjoyed it very much. But it 
turned out to be the golden pheasant prepared for 
the supper of the king.” 

“It turned out to be!” repeated the gentleman. 

257 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

^‘Did not your friend know beforehand when he 
bought it that it was the king’s bird?” 

This question made Pedro very uncomfortable. 
When caught in mischief he was always ready to 
tell the truth and suffer the consequences, but he 
found it extremely unpleasant to play the role of 
telltale. How he wished that he were a grown 
man, in which case, he thought, he could fight out 
this business with his sword. 

“Come, answer me,” said the gentleman in the 
quick, impatient tone of one who is not accustomed 
to wait for replies. 

“I am afraid he did know it. Monsieur,” said 
the boy; “but if some one is to be punished for the 
offense I should be that one and not he, for it 
was my money that bought the bird and my visitor 
who was benefited by it.” 

“You say that this friar did not know what he 
was eating?” 

“He? Oh, no. Monsieur,' he had not the least 
idea of it. He thought he was taking a supper 
honestly obtained and paid for by me.” 

“Then we will say no more about it upon two 
conditions. One is that you inform the cook that in 
the future he is not to sell the food intended for 
the king’s table; the other condition is that you 
tell your friend, the friar, that he was regaled 
by the king’s supper, that he may rejoice in the 
memory of having been the guest of the King of 
France.” So saying, he slipped a coin into the 
258 


HIS MAJESTY’S GOLDEN PHEASANT 

boy’s palm, strode away and was soon lost in the 
shadows. 

^‘Oh, but I was scared!” exclaimed Fabien, who 
did not seem to be ashamed of his fright. “That 
was good of you, Pedro, not to tell my name, and 
I knew he could not see me in this dark corner.” 

“This is a gold piece,” said Pedro, examining 
it by the moonlight. “It is to repay what we gave 
for the pheasant.” 

“Do you suppose he will tell the king?” asked 
Petronilla anxiously. 

“The king already knows it,” replied her 
brother. 

“How should he know it so soon?” 

“It was the king himself. When he said, ‘Begin 
at the beginning,’ I recognized him by his voice, 
though I have not often heard him speak.” 

“I knew him even before he spoke,” said 
Fabien; “and that is why I was so frightened.” 

“How could you tell that it was he, when you 
could not see his face?” 

“From the perfume that he always has about 
him. The king always uses musk,” — which proves 
that Fabien’s sense of smell was unerring, as we 
are told that Francis was fond of that now unpop- 
ular perfume and that he was always scented 
with it. 

“If I were a great king,” said Petronilla, “I 
should not stop to inquire about so small a thing 
as a bird.” 


259 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

was not the bird he cared about. He would 
not have troubled himself about us if he had not 
heard you use the word poison.” 

“And, brother, you did not say ^your Majesty’ or 
kneel,” cried Petronilla, trembling as she sud- 
denly remembered this terrible breach of eti- 
quette; “you only said, ‘Monsieur,’ and you did 
not kneel!” 

“I could see that he did not wish to be recog- 
nized, as he took care to keep his face in the 
shadow, and so I let him think that I did not know 
I was talking to the king,” — which action on 
Pedro’s part showed that he one day would be an 
accomplished courtier. 

That same night Pedro sent a messenger to 
Brother Frangois with a note stating that the 
good friar had eaten the king’s pheasant and had 
been his Majesty’s guest, — a fact which Brother 
Frangois remembered to the end of his days, 
though he offered up many prayers petitioning 
for pardon for thinking too much of the pleasures 
of the table. 

Petronilla was the only one of the trio who 
suffered from the consequences of the friar’s visit. 
They had been so long detained in the grotto, 
waiting for the supper and afterward by the king, 
that when she returned to the apartments of 
Jeanne, Duchess of Cleves, that captious little lady 
gave her a good scolding for being so long away; 
and it was only by relating the incident which had 

260 


HIS MAJESTY’S GOLDEN PHEASANT 

detained her that Petronilla appeased her High- 
ness, who was amused at their fright. 

“That was like my uncle, the King of France,” 
she remarked; “he is not ungracious, though he 
has been a tyrant to me.” 


i 


261 


CHAPTER XXIII 


QUEEN ELEANOR AND THE POMANDER-BOX 

In searching through her boxes on the following 
day Petronilla was reminded that the king was 
not the only individual at court who could appro- 
priate a special perfume. That which was made 
for and used only by the Velasco family was, she 
thought, far superior to the somewhat sickening 
odor which had met with the favor of his Majesty. 

So she took from its casket the pomander-box 
which her mother had given into her possession 
the day before the children had left the castle. 
Since she had left home her life had been so 
strange and varied that she had forgotten this valu- 
able keepsake, which she now swung from her 
waist by its chain with all the delight of a child 
with a new toy. She skipped through the long 
and now vacant salon, swinging the golden ball 
which emitted a sweet but pungent fragrance that 
permeated the entire room. 

Queen Eleanor and two of her ladies were pass- 
ing through the salon on their way from the chase. 
No sooner had she crossed the threshold than her 
Majesty stopped suddenly. “That perfume!” she 
said. “How sweet! Whence does it come?” 

262 


THE POMANDER-BOX 


think, your Majesty,” said one of the ladies, 
“that it is the pomander-box of that little maiden 
at the other end of the room, who belongs to the 
suite of her Highness, the young Duchess of 
Cleves.” 

“Bid her come to me,” said the queen. 

And Petronilla, being informed of the queen’s 
wishes, approached with a sedate step, in striking 
contrast to the hop and skip in which she had 
indulged a short time before, when she had for- 
gotten, for the moment, that she was in a palace 
and not in the old castle at home. 

To be addressed by a queen was not now so 
much of a novelty as it had been, but the little 
girl stood more in awe of the grave and stately 
Eleanor than she had of the gracious Marguerite 
of Navarre. 

The queen had taken a seat in the embrasure of 
an oriel window and the skirt of her blue velvet 
habit fell about her in soft, rich folds. She looked 
every inch a queen, but there was a sad expression 
in her dark eyes which Petronilla felt. She won- 
dered if her Majesty — like herself — ever suffered 
the pangs of homesickness. 

“Who are you, my child?” asked the queen 
abruptly. 

“Petronilla de Velasco, your Majesty,” replied 
the little girl, kneeling at the queen’s feet. 

“I thought it must be one of that family,” mused 
Eleanor, gazing before her with dreamy eyes. 

263 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

Then, to the child: “You may rise and stand be- 
fore me. Where did you obtain that perfume?” 

“It belonged to the ladies of our family, your 
Majesty, of our father’s family, and only they 
knew how to make it; but my mother found the 
secret and before I came away from my home she 
made a quantity of it for my pomander-box.” 

“You are, then, of the family of the Constable 
of Castile?” 

“Yes, your Majesty, the Constable of Castile, 
the friend of Queen Isabella, was our great-grand- 
father.” 

“And now I know why that fragrance carried 
me in a moment back to the distant past,” said 
Eleanor in her quiet, even tones, turning to her 
ladies. “This child’s grandmother was lady-in- 
waiting to my own mother, and she ever carried 
a pomander-box containing that delightful mix- 
ture.” 

Petronilla was aware of this fact, having been 
so informed by the Sehora Velasco. She also knew 
the sad fate of the queen’s mother, who, at first 
eccentric, became insane and was called Juanna la 
Loca, or Jane the Insane, a name by which she is 
still designated in Spain. 

“Are you all alone at court?” asked the queen 
graciously. 

“No, your Majesty. My twin brother, Pedro, 
is with me.” 

“Surely. I now recall the fact that I observed 

264 


THE POMANDER-BOX 


you one day at the hunt and remarked the resem- 
blance between you.” 

‘Tf it please your Grace,” said one of the ladies, 
who, like the queen, was a Spanish woman, “I 
think I can tell you the facts of this child’s parent- 
age. Her father, Don Hernandez de Velasco, 
eloped with and married a girl of lowjamily liv- 
ing in Pamplona.” 

Never had Petronilla felt so hurt, never had 
she been so indignant. Her beautiful, gentle 
mother to be alluded to in this manner, as one 
would speak of a scullery maid! She was in the 
royal presence, she could make no reply, and 
though she bit her lip hard her eyes filled with 
tears. 

‘Teace, Ysabel!” chid the queen' sharply. “I 
think it would afford you pleasure to torture an 
imprisoned butterfly.” Then, with her eyes half 
veiled in a side glance, she added maliciously: 
“If I be not deceived by this treacherous memory 
of mine, there was a whisper that the parents were 
planning a marriage between the Dona Ysabel and 
this little one’s father, and that, yielding to the 
charms of the beautiful daughter of a Pamplona 
merchant, he disappeared for e’C^er from the court 
of Spain.” 

Petronilla could have kissed the queen’s very 
shoes for this remark, while the lady-in-waiting 
colored and looked as if she would very much 
like to make a reply; but not daring to do so, she 
265 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

was obliged to swallow her wrath as best she 
might. 

Eleanor drew Petronilla toward her and 
touched the little girl’s forehead with her lips. 
“A perfume has the power to bring back memories 
of the past,” she said; “and as I breathe the fra- 
grance of yours I am once more a happy little 
child.” 

Petronilla realized by instinct that whatever a 
sovereign admires must be surrendered forthwith, 
and she asked hesitatingly: “Would your Majesty 
please to accept this pomander-box? It is the very 
same that my grandmother carried.” 

“No, oh, no! I would not deprive you of it. But 
if you have a quantity of the mixture which it 
contains, you may send a little of it to me by your 
brother.” 

The queen rose and moved away with her ladies, 
and Petronilla sped away to her own room, where 
she had a package of the odorous herbs and spices 
wrapped in many folds of linen to keep the scent 
from being wasted. 

But she was puzzled how to arrange it to send 
to her Majesty. She ran out to consult Pedro, 
who had been holding the arrows and attending 
the Duchess of Cleves as she practised archery. 

“I thought,” said Pedro, when his sister had 
explained, “that no one ever was to carry that per- 
fume but the ladies of our house.” 

“But we surely will share it with a queen, you 
266 


THE POMANDER-BOX 

silly fellow 1” said Petronilla, while Fabien, who 
came along in time to hear the discussion, said: 
“You may be glad that you have something that 
her Majesty wants. A good many people would 
give their very eyes to be allowed to make her a 
present, no matter what it would cost, and all you 
are asked to give is a handful of old dried leaves.” 

The little girl did not take time to resent this 
disrespectful mention of the family perfume, but 
returned to the question of a receptacle for the 
portion which she was to present to her Majesty. 
She had a small satin bag embroidered with gold 
thread, which she thought might do, but Fabien 
scorned the idea of sending such an article to the 
queen. “What, that old rag? Why, you ought to 
put it in a gold box with the queen’s monogram 
in diamonds.” 

“I do not own a box with the queen’s monogram 
on it, as you ought to know very well, and I have 
not the money to buy one. Oh, dear, I did not 
know what a terrible thing it is to make a present 
to a queen, and I do hope I haven’t anything else 
she wants. I am going to ask madame what I 
should do about it.” 

The marquise was engaged in trying on a gown 
to be worn at the archery exercises on the follow- 
ing day, consequently she was very much absorbed 
in her own affairs. 

The gown was of green satin peppered with 
gold roses and, as could be seen with half an eye, 
267 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


it was a good deal too small for the lady who was 
trying to get into it. “It is not really too small, do 
you think, Felice?” she asked for the twentieth 
time; and the maid, knowing what was expected 
of her, replied: “Not at all, Madame, not in the 
least.” But the fact remained that, pull as she 
would, the bodice failed to come together by about 
three inches. 

“Get that cord and tie it about me as tightly as 
you can!” cried the marquise. The maid wound 
the cord about the rotund figure of her mistress 
and pulled the ends in opposite directions, while 
Petronilla was told to button the bodice. The 
child had secured the two lower buttons, when the 
cord slipped from Felice’s hand and off flew the 
buttons I 

“Never in all my life did I see such careless 
minxes!” cried the usually good-natured marquise; 
and, seizing from the dressing-table a small hand- 
mirror of polished steel, she gave each of them a 
crack over the head with it. 

The maid whimpered, Petronilla sat on the floor 
and wept, while the marquise sank into a chair and 
fanned her crimson face with her handkerchief, 
disappointed because, do what she would, she 
could not give herself a slender figure, and angry 
with herself because she had lost her temper. 

Had she been struck by one who was habitually 
unkind to her, the little girl would not have mind- 
ed it so much. But the sunny-tempered old mar- 
268 


THE POMANDER-BOX 


quisc, whose name she mentioned every night and 
morning in her prayers and for whom she cher- 
ished a genuine affection, — well, it was too much ! 
and though the blow had been by no means a 
severe one, Petronilla continued to cry because it 
had been dealt by the marquise. 

But already sorry and ashamed, the good mar- 
quise quickly recovered her temper. “Felice,” she 
said mildly, “put a loose robe on me and take that 
gown to the tailor and tell him to set large pieces 
in the seams under the arms. After all, even if 
it could have been brought together, I never could 
have drawn a bow with it on, for I am stout, and 
there is no use in trying to deny the fact.” 

When the maid had left the room she said: 
“Nilla, my child, dry your tears and forget the 
bad temper of an old woman.” The injured one 
rose to her feet with what might be termed a 
rainy smile, for her mouth dimpled though her 
eyes were wet. 

“That is right,” said the old lady, smiling in her 
turn. “And now tell me, did the Duchess of Cleves 
send you to me on an errand?” 

“No, Madame, she does not need me at present, 
and I have come to you for advice,” — and she stat- 
ed the object of her visit. 

“I wonder if I have anything that would do,” 
said the marquise thoughtfully. “Stay! I have 
the very thing. Nilla, you may think it almost 
beyond belief, but when a young girl I was hand- 

269 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


some, I was slender and I had a host of suitors. 
Among them was a Spanish nobleman, and he once 
gave me a gold casket, on which is engraved the 
arms of his country.” 

She brought a writing-case from a table in the 
corner of the room, and, after searching in one 
of its compartments, took from it a gold box on the 
lid of which were the lion and castle of Spain 
surrounded by a vine in fine tracery. “Put your 
perfume in that, my child. The arms will be a 
delicate compliment to her Majesty, who, though 
Queen of France, never forgets that she is Spanish; 
and as you also are of that race it will be doubly 
appropriate. No, do not say a word; I want you 
to have it, and it is thus that I appease my con- 
science for having struck you for something for 
which you were in no way responsible.” 

Pedro took the box with its fragrant contents 
to the queen and returned to his sister very much 
elated. “Her Majesty asked me a great many ques- 
tions about our people,” he said, “and she sent you 
this,” — and he handed Petronilla a locket set with 
pearls. 

Petronilla was delighted, for it is not every day 
that one receives a present from a queen; but she 
said, “I am going to send this to our mother as 
soon as I can. We see many lovely things and we 
wear the finest of clothes, but our poor mother is 
shut up in the mountains where she has nothing 
pretty to look at and she wears the plainest of 

270 


THE POMANDER-BOX 


gowns. She will not wear this, I think, but she 
will put it away and will be glad to know that it 
is the gift of her Majesty.’’ 

^‘You are right, Nilla, that is just what I thought 
you would do.” . 

At the archery contest on the following day 
Pedro had the honor of holding the bow and ar- 
rows of Catherine de’ Medici. If there is one thing 
more than another that a boy loves, it is a bow. 
Pedro examined this one carefully and wished 
very much that he owned one like it. This weapon 
is described as being of ebony traced with the 
fleur-de-lis, the lily of France; it was ornamented 
with steel and damaskeened with gold. It was 
engraved with the letter “C,” and upon one end 
of it was carved the head of the dauphin. 

Very pretty the young and graceful court-ladies 
appeared when indulging in this sport, but none 
enjoyed it more than the Marquise de Tallanges, 
who, having been an expert in her youth, made 
some very good shots, which she certainly could 
not have done had not her tailor made some alter- 
ations in her gown. 


CHAPTER XXIVj 


HER MAJESTY CONSULTS THE ASTROLOGER 

The week of merriment which celebrated the 1 
nuptials of the Duke of Cleves and the Princess 
Jeanne was now ended and the King and Queen of 
Navarre were to return to their own country, tak- 
ing with them their little daughter, who was to 
remain with them for some years before joining 
her husband. Francis no longer wished his niece 
to remain in the grim palace-castle of Plessis-les- 
Tours, for, having seen her safely married accord- 
ing to his own wishes, there was now no need to 
fear a marriage planned by the King of Spain. 

It was with some regret that the twins thought 
of leaving the court of France, where all was life 
and gaiety, for the more quiet court of Navarre; 
and Fabien exulted in the fact that he was to 
remain in France. “I am very glad my grand- 
mother is to stay here,’"’ said the boy; “everything 
in Navarre will seem on a very small scale now. 
Even the queen seems gayer here.” 

“That is because she is so fond of her brother, 
the king, that she is happiest by his side,” said his 
grandmother. 

A complication now rose that made the Velasco 

272 


HER MAJESTY AND THE ASTROLOGER 


twins very unhappy, and it seemed for a time that 
the swinging of her pomander-box that day in the 
salon was to prove Petronilla’s undoing. Queen 
Eleanor had taken a fancy to Pedro and wished to 
retain him for her own page. Not only did she 
consider this boy, with his brilliant dark eyes, his 
curling golden hair and his graceful, courteous 
manner, a picturesque figure in her train, but she 
had discovered that, thanks to the careful teaching 
of Brother Francois, Pedro had received a better 
education than any of her pages, and even better 
than many of her ladies. He also wrote a plain 
hand and had a pleasant, musical voice for reading 
aloud, and so she asked the Queen of Navarre to 
allow the boy to remain in her service. This re- 
quest Marguerite graciously granted, and many 
were the congratulations showered upon the boy 
by the old marquise. 

“When I took you from that old, tumble-down 
castle I had not expected so great an honor for 
you!” she cried. “I felt that the Queen of Navarre 
would want to place you in her daughter’s suite, 
but to be page to the Queen of France! My dear 
boy, your fortune is made! But why are you not 
dancing with joy at your good luck, instead of 
looking as serious as a monk at the beginning of a 
week’s fast?” 

“Because, Madame la Marquise, Nilla must re- 
turn to Navarre without me.” 

“That is true, — I had not thought about Nilla. 

273 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

I was not cruel enough to separate you, was I? 
Nor was your mother, though I fancy it must 
almost have broken her heart to part from her 
girl as well as her boy.” 

‘‘But I will not go to Navarre alone,” sobbed 
Petronilla. “I wish I had never taken that 
pomander-box out of my room; then her Majesty 
would not have sent for Pedro and she would not 
have noticed him or thought of what a beautiful 
page he would make. Why must a queen have 
everything to make her happy? Why must she 
even take my brother from me?” 

“Fie, fie!” said the marquise. “You must not 
give way like that. There is no use in railing at 
circumstances and tracing events back step by step 
in that way, as you will discover as you grow older. 
As for a queen having everything that can make 
her happy, that is a mistake. There are many 
women in this world who are happier than Elean- 
or of France or Marguerite of Navarre, I dare 
say. And you must not be selfish. Remember that 
this post will be a great advantage to your 
brother.” 

“I do not want him to give it up, Madame. I 
want to stay here with him.” 

If Petronilla had entertained a greater degree 
of affection for her little mistress she would have 
been more resigned to leave her brother and go to 
the court of Navarre. But Jeanne, who as a rule 
had seemed to be kind-hearted and just, had fits 

274 


HER MAJESTY AND THE ASTROLOGER 

of ill-temper, when she was very difficult to please, 
— a state of mind which had been greatly aggra- 
vated by her betrothal and marriage ; and although 
the little girl admired and stood in awe of the 
small duchess, she did not really love her. 

“I know of a position it will give you great joy 
to fill later,” said the marquise, who seemed to 
take Petronilla’s distress to heart, “and I should 
be glad to keep you with me until that time comes, 
for you are fully as useful to me as your brother; 
but of course it must be as Queen Marguerite 
wishes.” 

“Oh, Madame, can not you induce her Majesty 
of Navarre to let me stay here with you? When 
I first spoke with her I told her that I had come 
with my brother because I could not be separated 
from him, and she seemed to understand. She has 
forgotten it now, because she has so many things 
to think of; but you will speak to her about it, will 
you not?” 

“Very well. I will see what I can do, but it will 
be difficult to get an audience with her Majesty 
just now. Do not build your hopes upon it, for 
the queen will think of her daughter first of all, 
and if she thinks it will be best for her Highness 
to have your companionship for a few years noth- 
ing I can say will be of any avail.” 

Petronilla was overjoyed at this promise of the 
marquise to intercede for her, but the things we 
most desire seem to drag and creep on their way 
275 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


to us, and her good friend tried, without avail, 
many times during the day to obtain an interview 
with the Queen of Navarre. The little girl wrung 
her hands in an agony of fear, for they were to 
depart to-morrow and then it would be too late. 
Already her gowns, her shoes and other belong- 
ings were placed ready for their boxes, and it 
seemed as if she surely must go. 

Finally a page came to say that her Majesty 
of Navarre was pleased to grant an audience with 
the Marquise de Tallanges, and after what seemed 
to the twins to be a very long time, the good old 
lady returned with the news of her success written 
across her beaming face, for they could tell at 
once that she had succeeded in her undertaking. 

‘^Her Majesty is the sweetest of women,” she 
cried, “and none better understands the love of a 
sister for a brother. I think I put the matter before 
her very cleverly. I pictured your grief at being 
separated when I at first mentioned taking Pedro 
away from your home ; then I dwelt upon the fact 
that there was nothing more unselfish than the love 
of a sister, and I led up to the scheme I had in 
my mind for you. Her gracious Majesty yielded, 
though she said she was more than satisfied with 
what she had heard of your conduct and had made 
up her mind that you should grow up in the ser- 
vice of the young duchess.” 

Petronilla gratefully kissed the hand of the 
marquise^ whom she thanked from her heart, and 
276 


HER MAJESTY AND THE ASTROLOGER 

when alone with her brother the two danced for 
joy at their good fortune, which, though at times 
seeming to swerve from its course, followed them 
wherever they went. 

Jeanne parted from her little companion with 
sincere expressions of regret and presented her 
with a number of valuable keepsakes, while her 
royal mother left for Pedro and Petronilla each 
a generous sum of money. 

As this little lady now has passed out of the 
story, a few words regarding her after life may 
not be out of place. Finding that Jeanne’s mar- 
riage had ceased to be an advantage to him, Francis 
caused it to be annulled ; and when she grew into 
womanhood Jeanne d’Albret wedded the man of 
her choice, and afterward was the mother of the 
great Henry of Navarre. 

It is probable that at the time of the wedding 
just described Jeanne and Catherine de’ Medici 
thought very little about each other, not dreaming 
how they were to clash in the years to come. 

When the young Duchess of Cleves, over- 
whelmed with presents by her royal uncle, had 
taken her departure with her parents and their 
household, Francis began to grow restless and to 
long for a change of scene. It was characteristic 
of this monarch that he did not like to stay long 
in one place, and during his reign his court was 
a royal caravan traveling from palace to palace. 
So the tapestry, furniture, curtains and beds were 

277 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

taken out and placed on the backs of beasts of 
burden; the court ladies entered their litters or 
mounted mules as it pleased them; the gay cava- 
liers sprang to the backs of their prancing steeds; 
the escort of archers took their places; the soldiers 
were ready; the king’s hounds, his falconers and 
the countless servants, who in different capacities 
ministered to his pleasures and needs, awaited his 
Majesty’s signal to start. Then Francis, blithe and 
gay at the prospect of new sports, stepped forth 
and, reaching the horse that with arched neck 
stood pawing the earth with impatience, disdained 
the stirrup held for him and vaulted into the 
saddle. 

Then away swept the magnificent procession, 
all a-glitter in the light of the morning sun; and 
perhaps some peasant, journeying from the more 
rugged and less favored regions of France, upon 
beholding this splendid pageant would rub his 
eyes and imagine himself to be dreaming. Thus 
they traveled, and history tells of the banquets 
under the trees, where tables were set for hundreds 
of guests, and of the affability of the king, who, 
seated under the boughs with his court about him, 
told stories of the days of chivalry and recited 
from his favorite Romance of the Rose, 

Chirdren are fond of excitement and change, 
and to the Velasco twins this was an ideal way to 
live. Very likely there were people at court who 
agreed with them, but ambassadors who came 
278 


HER MAJESTY AND THE ASTROLOGER 

from distant countries grumbled among them- 
selves at the difficulty of obtaining a word with 
this sovereign, who seemed to think of nothing 
but his own pleasure. 

Pedro now occupied a very enviable position in 
the train of Queen Eleanor. He was at the head of 
her pages and the one whom she always addressed, 
and she always spoke to him in Spanish. The mar- 
quise, who took a great deal of interest in his pro- 
gress, gave the boy much wholesome advice. In 
the previous reign, as we are informed by histori- 
ans, the queen of Louis the Twelfth had been much 
annoyed by the antics of her chief page, who, when 
he rode out with her, used to trot off out of hearing 
and was often whipped for his tricks. But, follow- 
ing the counsel of the marquise, young Velasco 
saved his pranks for his hours of recreation, and in 
her Majesty’s presence he was as grave and sedate 
as a young monk. 

One day after their return to Paris the queen 
ordered Pedro to accompany her on a visit to an 
astrologer. 

During the sixteenth century this little planet 
of ours, which we now know might be wiped out 
of existence and never be missed from among the 
other worlds, was supposed to be the center of the 
universe and to be influenced by the stars, and it 
was believed that its inhabitants could read the 
secrets of the future in the starry book of the 
heavens. The astrologer interpreted the meaning 

279 


.THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


of what he read in the blue depths above him, and 
very often he also studied alchemy and varied his 
pursuits by searching for the philosopher’s stone, 
by mixing poisons and love philters, and by seek- 
ing to compound the elixir of life, — a wonderful 
mixture destined to keep people for ever young. 

On this particular occasion the queen took but 
one of her ladies, for the expedition was to be as 
secret as possible, and the three rode mules, — 
animals very much used at this time, even by 
royalty. 

In the crowded thoroughfare they were obliged 
to stop for some minutes and Pedro, riding in 
front, found that the cause of the crowd was a 
company of soldiers, conducting a number of 
malefactors to execution, — a sight which, though 
not an unusual one, never failed to attract attention 
on the streets of Paris. 

As Pedro paused, the mournful procession was 
also prevented for a time from continuing its way 
by the throng which surged and crowded close 
to it; and there, near enough for him to touch, 
was the man with the scar! But the man no longer 
was dangerous, for he was one of the doomed. 
He recognized the boy at once, and his brows knit 
together in a scowl of malice. 

“And so, my little popinjay, it is you!” he ex- 
claimed. “You can ride about fat and well- 
dressed, whilst your betters must go to their 
death.” 


280 


HER MAJESTY AND THE ASTROLOGER 

At this moment a guard struck him across the 
shoulders and roughly bade him be quiet. 

“You speak as if my good fortune were the cause 
of your ill-luck,” replied the queen’s page; “but 
I never harmed you, as you well know, though 
you have ill-used me. I should like to have you 
know that I pity you now and forgive you.” 

“You are well rid of a bad acquaintance, my 
friend,” said a bystander to Pedro. “That rascal 
is an outlaw and a murderer and the ofEcers of 
justice have wanted him for some time.” 

The soldiers and the prisoners now moved on 
and Pedro knew that the man with the scar had 
ceased to do harm for evermore. 

The astrologer who was honored by a visit 
from the queen was a man in the prime of life, 
with a long, black beard and an eye as keen as 
that of a falcon. He wore a dark robe and a velvet 
cap, and was surrounded by globes, compasses and 
open books of parchment containing pictures of 
the sun, comets and other heavenly bodies. 

Both the queen and her lady-in-waiting wore 
heavy veils, and it was agreed that they should not 
reveal their identity, or, at least, if the astrologer 
should suspect that he was in the presence of the 
queen he should be in doubt as to which of them 
was her Majesty, for the lady-in-waiting was 
of the same height and complexion as Queen 
Eleanor. 

In order to make the deception more complete, 

281 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


her Majesty allowed Dona Ysabel — for it was the 
same lady who had so offended Petronilla — to be 
the first to have her horoscope cast. It is doubtful 
if the wise man was deceived for a moment, for that 
class of people are obliged to have all their wits 
about them, and he treated both ladies with re- 
spectful deference. He talked a great deal about 
the House of Life, and the other Houses; and of 
the Sign of the Zodiac which rose above the ho- 
rizon at the moment of the Lady Ysabel’s birth. 
He told her that she had a high position at court, 
but not the highest; that she had been woefully 
soured by a disappointment in her youth, and that 
she never had been and never would be married. 
‘^You were not in your first bloom when you met 
with this great disappointment,” he said; “you 
were ten years older than your rival.” 

This kind of talk was extremely distasteful to 
the lady, who said that, having heard he had dis- 
covered the elixir of life in his researches in the 
field of alchemy, she would like a vial, to find if 
he had made as great a mistake in its manufacture 
as he had made in her own history. 

Nothing daunted, the learned man brought 
from his laboratory a tiny bottle containing a 
liquid, green as an emerald. “This is more pre- 
cious than melted jewels, Madame,” said he, “as 
only this small quantity was the result of my con- 
coction, which never again may have the same 
result.” 


HER MAJESTY AND THE ASTROLOGER 

“Has it ever been tried?” asked the lady, for- 
getting her irritation in the contemplation of this 
v^onderful medicine 

“It never has been tried on a human being, 
Madame,” said the astrologer gravely, “for the 
quantity here contained would only suffice for two 
persons ; but I tried a small portion of it on a hen.” 

Pedro was wondering if the elixir had killed 
the hen, when Dona Ysabel asked: “And with 
what result?” 

“It was marvelous, it was wonderful!” returned 
the learned man in a low deep voice. “The fowl 
was old, with ragged feathers and a pale comb. 
I put as much as would adhere to the tip of a 
knife on a piece of bread and gave it to her, and 
in three days she had lost every feather and was 
as bare as your ladyship’s hand.” 

“And then?” asked Dona Ysabel breathlessly. 

“Then the feathers came in as glossy as satin 
and the comb became crimson.” 

Pedro, who was fond of sifting every question 
to the bottom, would have liked to ask if the fowl 
was tough when brought to the table, but of course 
it was not for him to speak a word until he was 
spoken to. 

Dona Ysabel purchased the elixir at a price 
which emptied her purse and caused her to groan, 
for she loved money dearly. But gold is mere 
dross when compared to sunny youth, and she felt 
that if she could be as thoroughly rejuvenated as 

283 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

the hen, she had that morning made the bargain 
of her life. 

It was now the turn of her Majesty to have her 
fate read, and the degree of deference with which 
the astrologer handed her to a chair would have 
convinced any one who was not willing to be de- 
ceived that he was perfectly well aware of this 
lady’s exalted rank. The probabilities are that he 
had confederates among the palace servants, who 
kept him informed of all that went on within its 
walls, and that he had anticipated this visit. 

He told the queen of a long line of illustrious 
ancestors. Upon her brow he said two crowns had 
rested, and the future held for her bliss and power 
untold. Then he added mysteriously: “The life 
of one you love is threatened by one who is near 
to you.” 

The queen gave a faint cry at this, and when, 
at the close of the interview, the astrologer handed 
her a slip of parchment on which four lines were 
written in red ink, Eleanor slipped it unread into 
the bosom of her habit and, motioning to Pedro 
to pay for the predictions from a purse he carried 
for that purpose, her Majesty hurried to the door. 

When they had returned to the palace the queen 
told Pedro to come to her oratory, where none ever 
followed her. “This script is not very legible,” 
she said, producing the piece of parchment, “and 
my sight is not what it once was. Read it, boy; I 
am willing to trust you.” 


HER MAJESTY AND THE ASTROLOGER 

Pedro took it and read : 

great king is threatened with death in a strange city. 

An enemy with a smiling face is like a worm concealed in the heart 
of a rose. 

It may be granted to a page to lift a load of sorrow from a queen’s 
heart. 

A warning given in time is like armor and shield.” 

This was written like a verse, a capital letter 
beginning each line, which may or may not have 
had any connection with any other line. It was 
in this same way that Nostradamus, the favorite 
astrologer of Catherine de’ Medici, wrote his pre- 
dictions, which would fit almost any circumstance, 
according to the state of mind of the person trying 
to interpret them. 

Queen Eleanor was very much agitated by these 
lines. She covered her face with her hands for a 
moment and, with a signal for the boy to leave her, 
knelt before the crucifix of carved ivory which 
hung over the altar. 

Bound in honor not to confide even to his sister 
what he had seen and heard that day, Pedro won- 
dered much concerning it. Of course he was not 
in advance of his times, and he believed in astrol- 
ogy and alchemy, and fully expected to see the 
wrinkles about the eyes of Dona Ysabel smooth 
out, and her faded cheek become round and full 
and glow with the bloom of youth, instead of with 
the bloom applied, often too lavishly, by her 
maid. When this transformation did not take 
^85 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


place he concluded she had been afraid to take 
the green drops, for which she had paid so exor- 
bitant a price. The boy wondered what the world 
would be if all the old people could be made to 
look very young. They still would be old in years, 
despite their appearance; for years can not be set 
back as one sets a clock, and people thus made 
over, he thought, would be very much like coun- 
terfeit gold pieces. The boy made up his mind 
that it was just as well the elixir was too expensive 
to be purchased by any but the very rich. 

That winter in Paris was an exciting one to the 
Velasco twins. 

There were pageants and masks and balls, 
and, most remarkable of all, conflicts between wild 
animals given for the entertainment of the king, 
who loved to see a fight between the bears, lions 
and tigers, and sometimes a bull and bear alone 
would fight each other to the death. 

The minds of thoughtful people recognized at 
this time the march of events of far more impor- 
tance than the amusement of the king and his court. 
A struggle was going on between two great re- 
ligions, the history of which the readers of this 
story will understand as they grow older. 

Pedro and Petronilla, who had seen but few 
pictures of any kind during their short and se- 
cluded lives, were fond of looking at those pur- 
chased by the king. Francis was so great a lover 
of art that when Raphael’s Saint Michael and 
28^ 


HER MAJESTY AND THE ASTROLOGER 

Holy Family were brought to Paris they received 
a solemn reception, like that given to a great and 
living person. It has been said — and denied, so 
one does not know what to believe — that one of 
the greatest of painters, Leonardo da Vinci, died 
in the king’s arms. Certain it is that Francis 
bought for four thousand crowns the Mona Lisa, 
by this artist, and it hangs in the Louvre to-day — 
one of the most celebrated pictures in the world. 
Before this picture the twins often stood, trying 
to understand just what the painted lips seemed 
to be wanting to say to them. “It is the same look 
I often have seen on the face of our mother,” said 
Petronilla, “when we told her a fairy-tale that we 
had heard from Tomas or Jules. She did not 
believe it, you see, but she did not want us to know 
that she doubted it.” 

And thus they speculated about each work of 
art and believed that Raphael must have seen the 
saint so lightly poised on the body of the dragon. 


387 


CHAPTER XXV) 


CHARLES THE FIFTH IN FRANCE — WHAT HAP- 
PENED TO PEDRO 

Charles the Fifth of Spain wanted to visit 
Ghent, which was a part of his domain, and, being 
afraid to go by sea on account of the English ships, 
and not caring to go through Germany for fear of 
some trouble with the Protestant states, he was in- 
vited by Francis to travel through France, which 
was the shortest route, — an invitation which the 
Spanish sovereign accepted. 

These two monarchs, as we have seen, had been 
enemies, and although they were now brothers- 
in-law and had made many protestations of friend- 
ship, they did not love each other even yet. Henri, 
the dauphin, hated Charles, for he was one of the 
boys who had been sent to Spain as a hostage and 
he could not forget his long imprisonment, when 
he had prayed every day to be released. So it is 
no wonder that Brusquet, the court fool, chuckled 
as he opened the calendar which he kept for the 
purpose of inscribing in it the names of greater 
fools than himself, and wrote the name of the 
Spanish king, deeming the latter a fool for trust- 
ing himself in France. 


288 


WHAT HAPPENED TO PEDRO 

When, with a grin of satisfaction, he showed the 
name to his royal master, Francis asked: “And 
what would you say, fool, if I should allow the 
King of Spain to pass through my realm without 
let or hindrance?” 

“In that case, cousin,” returned Brusquet, “I 
should erase his name and write your own in its 
place.”* 

But Charles started on his way through France, 
taking with him a very small retinue, willing, ap- 
parently, to trust to the good faith of his quondam 
adversary. 

The royal guest was received at every town with 
the greatest pomp and ceremony and was met at 
Loches by Francis himself. After embracing as 
if they adored instead of distrusting each other, 
the two monarchs traveled together, stopping at 
various palaces. ThTe lively French court provided 
every variety of diversion that a monarch could 
enjoy and possibly a good many that bored the 
Spaniard, who was inclined to be serious and cared 
but little for any kind of entertainment save that 
provided by the table, for he possessed a remarka- 
ble appetite. 

The Velasco twins had pictured the King of 
Spain as tall and handsome, and they were greatly 
surprised to find him short and somewhat lame. 


*This retort has been attributed to Triboulet, but later writers contend that this 
jester belonged to the earlier part of the reign, and that it was Brusquet who origi- 
nated the Fool’s Calendar. 

289 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


for his love of good things had brought with it 
occasional severe nips of the gout. His lower jaw 
protruded, his lips were thick and his mouth was 
always open, showing his teeth. But he was very 
dignified and his manner was so gentle it was hard 
to believe that this king was cruel, and that he set 
no value upon human life when it suited his pur- 
pose to destroy it. 

Charles expressed himself as being delighted 
with all he saw. The Chateau de Chambord with 
its carved salamanders and other wonders pleased 
him very much, and he must have been charmed 
with beautiful Fontainebleau with its majestic for- 
est, where he might enjoy the pleasures of the hunt. 
And he must have been gratified by the reception 
given him in Paris, where the people, taking the 
cue from their king, welcomed him with joyous 
acclaim. 

Queen Eleanor was delighted to be in the com- 
pany of her brother, of whom she was very fond, 
though she did not cherish for him the sentiment 
of idolatry manifested by Marguerite of Navarre 
for Francis. 

Pedro, constantly at the beck and call of the 
queen, could see that she was worried, and it is 
reasonable to suppose that she had her doubts of 
the sincerity of the friendship shown by Francis 
for his royal brother-in-law. But the day before 
the Spanish sovereign took his departure from 
Paris something happened to Pedro, which, for 

290 


WHAT HAPPENED TO PEDRO 

the time, concentrated all his thoughts upon him- 
self. 

It was at the end of a grand banquet and Francis 
was telling a story, as usual, of the days of chivalry. 
In the most thrilling portion of the narrative the 
king rose to his feet, and, in order the better to 
illustrate the scene he was describing, he drew his 
dagger from its sheath and swung it in the air. 
When he had lifted it to the highest point the 
dagger slipped from his hand and struck Pedro, 
who was standing behind the queen’s chair. The 
boy had stepped backward as the weapon fell, 
otherwise it might have been mortal. As it was, 
the point of the sharp blade pierced his cheek, 
inflicting a painful wound. 

“By the Mass!” exclaimed the king in dismay, 
when he saw what he had done. But the queen’s 
page possessed the soul of a soldier; pressing his 
handkerchief to his cheek with one hand he quick- 
ly recovered the dagger with the other and, kneel- 
ing, restored it to his Majesty. 

“Well done!” said Francis, adding kindly: 
“Retire, my lad, and send for a physician,” — a 
command which the boy was very glad to obey. 

The physician stanched the blood and applied a 
healing lotion. “It will not leave a scar,” said he, 
“thanks to my knowledge of the science of healing. 
And that is fortunate for you, my boy, for It would 
be a pity to have your beauty marred.” 

Petronilla, who had not been present when the 

291 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


accident occurred, wept bitterly at beholding her 
brother’s bandaged face. He laughed at her and 
told her that when he grew up he, no doubt, would 
often feel the point of an enemy’s blade much more 
severely than he now felt the accidental thrust of 
the king’s dagger, and assured her that many 
would have been willing to meet with a worse 
mishap in order to win a word of praise from his 
Majesty. But the wound was very painful, never- 
theless, and all night long he tossed uneasily on 
his couch, unable to sleep until near the approach 
of dawn. 

Pedro was of course excused from duty by the 
queen, who made kindly inquiries concerning him, 
and ordered that nourishing broth be made for 
her favorite page. 

In the afternoon of the following day the boy 
was surprised to see her Majesty and her confi- 
dential friend, the Dona Ysabel, enter his room. 

^‘Boy,” said Eleanor, “do you think your wound 
will permit you to undertake a journey for me?” 

“I am not too ill to serve your gracious Majesty,” 
returned Pedro, kneeling at her feet. 

“My brother, the King of Spain, has taken his 
departure and will rest to-night at an hostelry some 
three or four hours’ ride from Paris. I have heard 
of a plot to arrest his Majesty at Chantilly. I 
greatly fear that it may be worse than merely to 
arrest him, for you may remember the prediction 
of the astrologer concerning the king and his smil- 

292 


WHAT HAPPENED TO PEDRO 


ing enemy. It is plainly revealed to me that you 
are the page who must warn him, for none of the 
others is so trustworthy as yourself. 

“It is but an hour since they departed, and the 
king is traveling to-day in a litter, so they are not 
moving rapidly. You may therefore overtake them 
, without difficulty if you start at once. Deliver this 
letter to any one of my brother’s suite, for they are 
all faithful, and may God speed you.” 

“It is unfortunate that the lad’s face is so 
swathed in linen,” said the Dona Ysabel. “Stay, I 
know something of healing and I can treat a wound 
in a more satisfactory manner than a bungling 
leech.” 

She left the room and soon returned bearing a 
leather box. Then with deft fingers she untied the 
bandages, moistening with cool water the linen 
next the flesh. Cutting a piece of brown plaster, 
she covered the wound with it, and although it 
made a dark and unsightly blotch on the fair face 
of the boy, he now presented a better appearance 
than he had done under the treatment of the doctor. 
But he was less comfortable than he had been, for 
the plaster irritated instead of soothing the wound. 

Pedro donned a plain dark suit, for he was in- 
structed to wear nothing which would distinguish 
him as the queen’s page, and he slipped the letter 
under the lining of his cap. Dona Ysabel gave him 
a well-filled purse and told him of an inn where 
he was to stop in case he should be delayed on his 
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return trip; after which the boy hurried down to 
the gate where a horse was held for him by a 
silent groom. The cool air blowing in his face 
refreshed and revived him, and, mounting the rest- 
less steed, which seemed as anxious to start as if 
it had known the importance of the errand, Pedro 
sped away on his mission. 

Brusquet, the court fool, was not needed, for 
the king was playing at cards and, being sufficient- 
ly amused by the game, cared not at all for jests. 
The jester had been asleep on the floor of the 
gilded salon with a rich rug wrapped about him 
and his head pillowed in a nest of silken cushions. 
He rose, yawned and lounged down the length of 
the corridor to a window, where he stood gazing 
dreamily out, tapping on the glass with his long 
nails. Then he saw a little brown form moving 
swiftly across the courtyard below. Brusquet was 
French to the backbone and he hated the queen and 
everything Spanish. He had, moreover, a mali- 
cious curiosity concerning all her Majesty’s attend- 
ants. This boy, who at first seemed to be a stranger, 
he soon recognized as the queen’s favorite page. 
The fact that Pedro was clothed in inconspicuous 
garb, instead of the rich apparel in which he usual- 
ly appeared, excited Brusquet’s suspicions in a 
moment. He stole silently down a rear stairway, 
entered the courtyard and reached the gateway 
just as the horse and its rider were disappearing 
in the distance. 


394 


WHAT HAPPENED TO PEDRO 


Brusquet uttered an imprecation anent his own 
stupidity at not having more closely observed the 
groom who now had vanished. Among the great 
number of men about the stables he would find 
it difficult to identify and to question him. He 
surmised at once that Queen Eleanor was sending 
a message to her royal brother, and he had reason 
to know that Francis would not approve of any 
secret communication between the two, for Brus- 
quet was very keen in some respects and was well 
aware of the fact that Francis distrusted the King 
of Spain. 

The jester was fond of a row when he was not 
brought into it, and he liked to see his Majesty 
boiling with rage and throwing things about. He 
now leered cunningly and his small eyes gleamed 
with malice. 

But as Brusquet watched Pedro, some one 
watched Brusquet, and that was Dona Ysabel, who 
hastened to the queen’s apartments at once. 

“The king’s fool knows that your page has de- 
parted, Madame,” said she, “and he will tell his 
master, for he owns a prattling tongue.” 

Eleanor stood still in the middle of the room 
with her hands clasped helplessly. “But we must 
deny it,” she said at last; “we must say that the 
fool was mistaken arid that the boy is ill of his 
wound and remains in his bed.” 

The lady-in-waiting shook her head. “If the 
king begins to investigate, Madame, he will go 

29 .^ 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


to the page’s apartment himself; and, as your 
Majesty well knows, his anger is not pleasant when 
roused.” 

^‘Then what shall we do?” whispered the queen. 

“We can get some one to take his place.” 

“That would be of no avail; the king is not 
easily deceived.” 

“Your Majesty has not forgotten the girl, the 
boy’s twin sister, now in the suite of the Marquise 
de Tallanges? I will dress the girl in her brother’s 
clothes and defy his Majesty to tell the difference.” 

“But will he not suspect?” 

“He will suspect nothing; I do not believe he 
is aware of the girl’s existence, and of late the 
resemblance has not been so apparent on account 
of a close cap she has worn, which entirely con- 
ceals her hair and — but I must fetch her at once, 
for there is no time to be lost.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 

THE KING SENDS FOR THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

Petronilla, who of course knew nothing of her 
brother’s departure, was peacefully engaged with 
her embroidery frame beside the marquise, who 
was similarly employed. 

^‘Her Majesty has sent for this girl and you 
must upon no account reveal the fact that she is 
not in your apartments,” said Dona Ysabel abrupt- 
ly, and with the authority of one who speaks in the 
name of the queen. 

“Pedro, is he worse?” cried the little girl, rising 
hurriedly and scattering her embroidery silks 
about. 

“Your brother is almost recovered. Come.” 

“Yes, go at once, my child, as the queen com- 
mands,” said the marquise, “and in everything do 
as you are told.” 

Locked within the page’s room Doha Ysabel 
threw off the close cap the child wore and loos- 
ened her soft hair; then she unbuttoned the little 
dress and almost before she was aware of it Petro- 
nilla stood clothed in a page’s suit of pale yellow 
silk slashed with velvet. 

“This disguise is to save her Majesty from great 
297 


^THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

annoyance,” explained the lady-in-waiting, as she 
finished the costume by fastening a small dagger 
to Petronilla’s side; “and until you are permitted 
to take off this garb you must pretend to be your 
brother.” 

“But, my brother, — what has become of him?” 
asked the little girl with quivering lips, for she 
could not understand this singular proceeding. 

“He is gone on a secret errand and you are to 
take his place. Now do you understand?” 

“Yes, Madame, and I will do my best to be like 
him.” 

“That is right; and now the queen must see you, 
for never in my life did I behold so remarkable a 
resemblance.” 

Queen Eleanor held up both hands in amaze- 
ment. “It surely is the boy himself ! It was a happy 
thought, Ysabel, but the wound — what of that? 
Shall we pretend that it was cured by a miracle?” 

“No, Madame, such a statement would excite 
so much comment that it would lead to discovery. 
It is a great pity the accident should have occurred 
just at this time, when it is so necessary that the girl 
should resemble the page; but I have thought of 
a way out of the difficulty. I will give the child a 
wound like that of her brother.” 

Petronilla stepped back in dismay and even the 
queen looked startled, but Dona Ysabel laughed 
and, taking up her sharp knife, cut a piece of plas- 
ter similar to the one she had prepared for Pedro. 

298 


THE KING AND THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


This she laid across the peach-like cheek of his 
sister. “And now,” she exclaimed triumphantly, 
“the resemblance is complete and perfect!” 

“Remain here, child,” said the queen, “unless 
you are called for. Let us not involve ourselves 
in a tangle of deceit unless it be necessary.” 

While royalty sat at supper Brusquet lay under 
the table, as it sometimes pleased him to do, pop- 
ping his head out when struck by a brilliant idea. 
To-night, however, he had said nothing, and the 
king, who seemed to be in an unusually good 
humor, commented upon his silence. 

“I was meditating, cousin, upon the strange 
ways of kings,” returned the fool from under the 
table. 

“As how?” asked his master lazily. 

Brusquet crept out and sat with his leering face 
on a level with the board as he replied: “I am 
wondering, cousin, why, when you have a host of 
messengers of your own, you should have sent a 
little page boy. Cousin Eleanor’s page, by the way, 
with a letter to Charles.” 

Francis flashed a glance at the queen. She had 
raised a goblet to her lips and, although she had 
been momently expecting an outburst from Brus- 
quet, her nerves were so unstrung by anxiety and 
suspense that the goblet fell from her trembling 
hand, staining the cloth with red wine. 

Seemingly unconscious of this accident Francis 
turned to the jester again. “Those blinking eyes 
299 


iTHE QUEEN’S 'PAGE 

have deceived you, fool. I sent no message to the 
King of Spain.” 

“A fool can see as vv^ell as a king,” persisted 
Brusquet. ^‘The page, the pretty Spaniard whom 
you pinked so daintily with your dagger and who 
in consequence was ornamented with a dark rag 
pasted over his face, this afternoon sped across the 
courtyard, mounted his swift steed and flew away 
as if chased by ten thousand devils. And what is 
more wonderful still, he had not yet returned at 
nightfall, when all good little boys should be 
tucked safely in bed.” 

“Your joke is stupid,” said Francis quietly; 
“you should take something to sharpen your wits,” 

Eleanor drew a deep breath of relief, while 
Brusquet scowled with disappointment. It was 
very annoying to find the king’s anger could not 
be roused. It would be amusing to see him lose 
his temper at the table where there were dishes to 
throw, and he would have rejoiced at the discom- 
fiture of the queen. 

But when they had returned to the gilded salon 
Francis asked with apparent carelessness: “By the 
way, how fares the boy I wounded yesterday?” 

“Indifferently well,” replied the queen. “I hope 
there is no danger of a fever, — and there may not 
be if he remains in quiet and seclusion for a few 
days.” 

She had said too much; she was not a good 
actress. 


300 


THE KING AND THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


“Fie!” replied the king, “he should not be rolled 
up in wool for a scratch like that. Send for him 
that I may see for myself how he fares.” 

The ladies and gentlemen of the court, ever 
quick to suspect, realized that something was 
wrong and awaited with impatience the return of 
the messenger who was sent to fetch the wounded 
page. 

Through the doorway came a small figure with 
head erect, but with large, frightened eyes and a 
brown mark across one cheek, who stepped lightly 
across the polished floor and knelt at the king’s 
feet. It was — or so all but three of that brilliant 
company were ready to affirm, — Pedro Velasco, 
the queen’s page. 

With dropped jaw Brusquet stared, unable to 
believe the evidence of his own eyes. He presented 
a spectacle so comical that Francis burst into a 
roar of laughter, in which all present joined. 

“What say you now, fool?” asked the king. 

“Nothing, cousin,” replied the jester sulkily; 
“when Satan himself begins to work for royalty 
and sends a changeling to court it is not for the 
fool to make comments.” 

“Does your wound pain you, my boy?” asked 
the king kindly. 

“Not at present. Sire,” replied poor Petronilla 
in a low voice, for she was inwardly quaking with 
fright. 

“You shall receive something better from the 

301 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


hands of your king than the cut of a dagger,” went 
on Francis; “you may expect it to-morrow.” 

Petronilla took her place behind the queen, re- 
lieved to find that the stratagem, which she did not 
yet understand, had succeeded so well. 

But the next remark made by the king surprised 
her so much that she was obliged to grasp the back 
of a chair to keep from falling. 

“Our faithful servant and gallant gentleman, 
the Count de Saint-Victor, is bringing a new 
beauty to court, I am told. He has arrived from 
the south and is accompanied by his Bearnaise 
bride, whom he will present to us this evening.” 

No wonder the child was ready to faint! Aunt 
Catalina was coming, now, of all times in the 
world! Aunt Catalina, who might be deceived by 
the disguise, but would insist upon knowing where 
Petronilla couhd be. And these people were ex- 
pecting a beauty, — would they laugh when they 
saw her aunt? Her cheek flushed at the thought, 
for, although her aunt had never seemed her 
friend, Petronilla did not want her to be laughed 
at derisively as they had just mocked Brusquet. 

At this moment Petronilla saw the Count de 
Saint-Victor in the doorway, and very handsome 
he looked in his rich court-dress, though she 
scarcely noticed him, so intent was she in trying 
to get a view of the lady on his arm. But the 
glimpse she caught of the count’s bride satisfied 
her that it had all been a mistake, for this elegantly 

302 



Through the doorway came a small figure P age JOI 




THE KING AND THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

dressed lady was certainly not Aunt Catalina. Her 
hair, gathered into a gold net and fastened by a 
precious stone, was as black as night, while the 
arms were white and rounded. So much the little 
girl could see, and she felt relieved when a tall 
court-lady made a step which obstructed her view, 
for she did not wish to be observed by the count. 

The new arrivals were now bowing before the 
queen and almost unconsciously Pretonilla raised 
her eyes. Was she dreaming, or was she going to 
die? The count’s bride was her own mother! 
Younger, fairer, not the same, yet ever the same 
dear and lovely mother! It was like the return of 
a dear one from another world. She longed to 
reach out her arms and to say, “I am here, your 
little Nilla,” but such a course would cause great 
harm to her Majesty and to Pedro; it might be at 
the cost of their lives and her own. For the child 
felt that there was something very serious at the 
bottom of this strange masquerade. 

But her mother would know her! Those loving 
eyes could not be deceived. She remembered that 
once she and Pedro had exchanged costumes in 
order to play a trick upon their mother, but that 
she had only to look into their eyes to tell them 
apart. And what would she say now in her first 
surprise? Even if the king should not hear, there 
was the fool ready to listen and tell. 

Petronilla turned her head in the hope of being 
able to whisper to Dona Ysabe!, but the latter was 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


too far away and there was no time to lose. 
‘‘Madame,” she whispered with white lips to one 
of the ladies, “implore her Majesty to let me retire, 
for indeed I feel as if I should die!” 

“Indeed, you look ill, my poor lad,” said the 
lady kindly; and turning she said to the queen: 
“The page, may it please your Majesty, is suffer- 
ing severely from his wound and is in danger of 
swooning.” 

“Tell him to go,” said the queen. And, shading 
her face with her hand lest she should be recog- 
nized, Petronilla turned and vanished through the 
nearest doorway. 

But in her room a new difficulty awaited her. 
The doctor was waiting to dress the wound 1 Petro- 
nilla had not seen him when he had visited her 
brother, consequently she had not the faintest idea 
what business this stout old man could have here 
at this hour. 

“What is it you wish, sir?” she inquired won- 
deringly. 

“What is it I wish? What could I wish, young 
sir, but to minister to your comfort?” asked the old 
doctor testily, for he was already in an irritable 
state of mind at being obliged to wait for his 
patient, whom he had told to remain in his room. 
“It is rather early to defy your physician, let me 
tell you,” he added still more sourly; “and you 
look as if you did not even remember having seen 
me before.” 


THE KING AND THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


“Oh, yes, I know who you arc, sir,” stammered 
the supposed page. 

“I should hope so, indeed, for you do not look 
like a fool, though you are acting like one in run- 
ning about like this.” 

“But it was at the command of the king.” 

“Then I suppose you could not help yourself, 
but it is the doctor who should be king of the sick- 
room. What is that rag you have strung across 
your face?” 

“It is a plaster.” 

“Am I blind? Can not I see that for myself? 
What is it there for?” 

“It was put there by one of the queen’s ladies. 
I — I — the wound — the king’s dagger — you know.” 
She was so confused that she hardly knew what 
she was saying, for Petronilla had been taught to 
speak out and tell the truth, and this for her was a 
very difficult position. 

“Saints above!” cried the doctor angrily, “he is 
telling me that he was wounded, just as if I did not 
know it already, just as if I had not dressed the 
wound with my own hands according to the latest 
discoveries of science! I would have you know, 
young sir, that I am not one to be so readily 
ignored.” 

Petronilla was frightened at this storm of in- 
dignation. “I beg your pardon, but you asked me, 
you know,” she said gently. 

“Well, I now ask you to come here that I may 

.305 


THE QUEEN’S* PAGE 

take off that plaster. I do not care if it was put 
there by the queen herself. What right has any- 
body to meddle with my case?” 

“But the wound is so much better, indeed, it Is 
almost well,” said the little girl, trembling with 
fear lest he should remove the plaster. 

“Stuff and nonsense! This is no time for that 
sort of thing. I shall not put one on for some days 
to come. It will now be necessary to apply some 
more of that lotion.” 

She shrank away, but he seized her by the arm 
and held her. “This cut will require fully a week 
longer to heal,” he grumbled. “I am surprised 
that you say it does not pain you, for if it does not 
hurt with this thing clinging to it you have no 
more feeling than a frog.” 

He moistened the plaster, which came off with- 
out the least difficulty, disclosing a cheek perfectly 
sound and without even the sign of a mark. The 
eyes of the old doctor seemed to be jumping from 
his head. Here had been an ugly wound which 
even the pure blood of youth could not have healed 
in less than a week’s time ; and now there was not 
even a trace of it left! 

“I knew that lotion would be effective, but I 
had not an idea that it was miraculous!” he mur- 
mured to himself. 

“Will you put another plaster on my face, 
please?” asked his singular patient. 

“In the name of goodness, why?” 

30$' 


THE KING AND THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

“Because, because I — I am fond of having it 
there,” she replied, not knowing what excuse to 
make. 

“Your taste is difficult to understand, as is 
everything else connected with this most remark- 
able case. I have no plaster with me and if I had 
I should not apply it where it is not needed.” He 
stared at her for a moment and then he began to 
rub his hands together, while a smile spread over 
his face. “This is a triumph, a great triumph,” 
said he. “I shall bring my colleague to-morrow to 
see you. He doubted, yes, he actually doubted the 
virtue of that lotion! He will be surprised, he will 
be amazed. And now I bid you a very good night.” 

When he had gone Petronilla found and care- 
fully replaced the plaster which he had thrown on 
the table. She felt she would be safer as Dona 
Ysabel had planned matters, for there was no 
knowing what might happen. 

Then the child threw herself on the bed. What 
was the meaning of all these strange events hap- 
pening about her? Her mother was in the palace 
and did not come to her children. Pedro had gone 
away without a word to her and everything seemed 
to be crisscross. As she was puzzling her brain to 
comprehend it all she drifted into the land of Nod, 
where for a time we are happily at rest from our 
troubles. 


^7 


CHAPTER XXVII 


AMAZEMENT OF THE DOCTOR AND THE KING’S 
JESTER 

Meanwhile Pedro was rapidly galloping toward 
Chantilly. Had his wound not pained him he 
would have been quite happy. He thought of the 
young Chevalier Bayard and of the boy nine years 
of age who had offered his services to Louis the 
Twelfth. He felt he was now doing something of 
real use and making a fine start in life. 

Charles the Fifth and his suite seemed to be 
traveling more rapidly than had been expected. 
Pedro had long passed the inn where he was to 
spend the night and the day was darkening into 
twilight when he saw them in the distance. As he 
approached he realized a difficulty for which he 
was not prepared, and which the queen and her 
lady in their haste seemed to have overlooked. 

Two of the French princes, the dauphin and the 
Duke of Orleans, were escorting their royal guest, 
and, as if conferring together, they now rode in 
the rear. It would be impossible to convey a letter 
to one of the king’s suite without being discovered. 
Should the two princes continue in their present 
position, Pedro must ride on to their stopping- 
308 


THE DOCTOR AND THE KING’S JESTER 


place, keeping well behind them, and manage in 
some way to get the letter to the king’s own hands 
before his Majesty slept. 

In the course of a half-hour fortune favored the 
anxious messenger, for the two French princes 
suddenly separated, and, going forward, took their 
places on either side of the litter. 

Now was Pedro’s time to act. He overtook the 
procession and mingled with the Spanish horse- 
men, who eyed him with cold surprise. The boy 
already had taken the letter from his cap and held 
it concealed in his sleeve. Riding close to one of 
the men he said in Spanish: “I have something 
from her Majesty, the Queen of France, to your 
king.” 

The man reached out his hand after a quick 
glance in the direction of the French princes, and 
Pedro slipped the letter into his keeping. Then, 
wheeling his horse, the boy rode toward Paris. 

It was a very lonely road and it seemed to the 
excited fancy of the boy that the very owls in the 
woods hooted a warning to him. He was glad of 
the practice he had had in riding in his native 
Bearn, and that his steed was a fleet one. But it 
was some time after nightfall when he arrived at 
the inn. 

Although he had plenty of gold with which to 
pay for the best accommodations Pedro refused 
to go to bed, lest, in spite of his wound, the fatigue 
he had undergone would cause him to oversleep 
309 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


in the morning. So after a comfortable supper he 
curled up in a chair and awaited the light of day. 

The earliest streak of dawn found Pedro on 
his horse and again flying toward Paris. It was a 
pale and disheveled boy who dismounted outside 
the palace gates and gave his horse in charge of the 
waiting groom, and afterward entered the queen’s 
apartments to tell her that her letter had reached 
its destination. 

Greatly relieved by this assurance, her Majesty 
complimented her page upon his faithful perform- 
ance of his task and promised that the future 
should prove that she was not ungrateful. 

Pedro was about to withdraw, when Doha 
Ysabel hastily entered. 

^Wait a while,” said she, “until Brusquet has 
left this wing of the palace. The fool, Madame, 
has not yet recovered from his suspicions and is 
watching.” 

This was true. Brusquet was determined to solve 
the riddle which had so puzzled him on the pre- 
vious evening. There were hundreds of horses in 
the king’s stables and it seemed discouraging to 
attempt an investigation. But by dint of persistent 
inquiry he had found that a certain horse, bay, 
with a white left forefoot, had been taken out 
quietly and had not yet been returned. That it 
was a messenger sent by the queen he felt sure, and 
he was determined to s^ft the mystery to the 
bottom. 


310 


THE DOCTOR AND THE KING’S JESTER 

Young day had taken the place of misty dawn 
when the jester saw hurrying across the courtyard 
the same brown figure that had departed the day 
before. The face was turned toward him and he 
now caught a full and clear view of it. It was 
young Velasco, — there was no doubt of it. 

It was but a step to the page’s room and there 
Brusquet hurried in order to question the boy as 
soon as he appeared. 

A page dressed in yellow silk slashed with velvet 
lay asleep on the bed. The jester stepped forward 
and surveyed him. There, sleeping peacefully 
with his arm under his head and the ugly plaster 
disfiguring his cheek, was young Velasco! 

It would have been impossible for the boy to 
have traversed the halls, climb two flights of stairs 
and changed his clothes while Brusquet was turn- 
ing from the window. 

The jester shivered with fear. It was not a mat- 
ter for him to investigate, he felt sure, for it was a 
case of witchcraft. He crossed himself and fled. 

Petronilla was awakened by some one shaking 
her arm. Opening her eyes she beheld Pedro and 
Dona Ysabel standing beside her bed. The latter 
hurried Petronilla into a closet and quickly 
dressed the little girl in her proper costume, care- 
fully tucking her hair under the little cap, while 
Pedro put on the page’s suit of yellow silk. 

The little girl was about to rejoin her brother 
when she heard the doctor’s voice. The good man 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


had brought his friend to bear witness to the won- 
derful cure wrought by his lotion. 

“Ah, good morning, my lad,” said the doctor 
cheerily. Then as Pedro turned his head he said 
angrily: “I see you have put on that plaster again I 
Why you should be wedded to that thing I do not 
know. However, it is easily removed, and, my 
brother, you shall see one of the most remarkable 
cures of the age. This wound when I dressed it 
was quite severe and painful, and, as you well 
know, even a small cut that draws blood does not 
usually disappear in twenty-four hours, leaving 
not a trace behind it. Not a trace, I give you my 
word, can now be found on this cheek!” 

The other doctor looked doubtful in spite of this 
positive assertion, but his colleague drew the boy 
toward him with an “Pll-soon-show-you” kind of 
air and cried, “Tut, tut!” as Pedro winced under 
his hands. 

“You see,” he cried, “what imagination will do, 
for there is no longer a cut here.” Great was his 
surprise and dismay to find not only a cut but a 
very angry one, for Dona Ysabel’s application had 
done a good deal of harm. 

The old physician stared in surprise while his 
friend laughed disagreeably. “I knew you were 
mistaken,” he remarked. 

“I tell you I was not mistaken!” cried the other. 
“I will leave it to the lad himself. Was not the 
wound entirely well when I last examined it?” 

312 


THE DOCTOR AND THE KING’S JESTER 

‘Tt may have so seemed to you, sir,” replied 
Pedro, “but it never has ceased to pain me.” 

“It is the fault of that plaster!” said the old 
doctor, anxious to find an excuse for this strange 
state of things. 

“A plaster,” said his friend quietly, “never could 
bring back a cut that had once been thoroughly 
healed. You will excuse me, my friend, but your 
sight is no longer as keen as it once was, and this 
fact, together with your faith in your medicine — ” 

“Rubbish!” interrupted the other. “I know 
what I know.” 

“I beg of you, sir, to give me something to ease^ 
my pain, for I suffer greatly,” said the patient, 
who was afraid the two learned men would come 
to blows on his account. 

The necessary remedies were applied and with 
a sigh of satisfaction the boy sank on the couch, 
while the two doctors left the room, arguing fierce- 
ly as long as their voices could be heard. 

As soon as the coast was clear Petronilla ran 
from the closet and clasped her brother in her 
arms. “Oh, brother!” she cried. “I have such 
news for you ! Our mother is here !” 

“Here!” cried the boy, springing from the bed 
with one bound. 

“Yes. It is she and not Aunt Catalina who is 
the wife of the Count de Saint-Victor.” 

“You must be dreaming. Where is she now?” 

“That is what I do not know and it seems so 
313 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 

strange to me. I saw her just for a moment when 
I was attending her Majesty last night in your 
place. And then I asked permission to go, for I 
was afraid of what she would say, not knowing 
the secret. She would not have been deceived — 
she would have known it was I. I thought she 
would ask for us at once and try to find us, but 
she did not.” 

^‘Nilla,” said her brother earnestly, “you did 
not see our mother. You were frightened and 
wretched and you thought first of her because we 
always went to her with our troubles. She is not 
here — it would be — it would be too good to be 
truel” 

At this moment a lady entered the room. She 
wore a velvet gown trimmed in fur; a jeweled 
chain hung from her waist and jewels sparkled 
on her fingers. She looked a court-lady from the 
tips of her little velvet shoes to the top of her little 
velvet cap, and she threw her arms about the twins 
as if she would smother them both in her embrace. 

There was no doubt about it, — some good things 
do happen in this world, — this was their mother! 
At first they all three cried from very joy, then 
the mother wept because her boy was wounded; 
but Pedro reassured her and promised that he 
soon would be well and without a scar. 

“And so you see I am married, my darlings,” 
said their mother. “I have come to the court to 
live always near you. I knew this when you went 
314 


THE DOCTOR AND THE KING’S JESTER 

away from me, else my heart would have been 
broken. The count is the best man in all the world 
and already loves you both.” 

‘^But why did you not come to us sooner?” asked 
her daughter, clinging to her as if she were afraid 
her mother would melt away and disappear. 

“We arrived late and I asked for you at once. 
But Madame la Marquise said there was a secret 
of the queen’s which would prevent my seeing 
either of you for the present, and that I was not 
to come to you until I had received permission of 
her Majesty. Imagine my disappointment, for it 
seemed to me I could not wait another minute.” 

“I was in the room when you entered it, mother 
dear,” said Petronilla. “Did you get a glimpse 
of me?” 

“No. Had I done so I am afraid I should have 
thrown prudence to the winds and clasped you 
in my arms as I do at this moment.” 

“And you are the Countess de Saint-Victor I 
How strange!” said Pedro. “And you are more 
beautiful than ever, mother.” 

She laid her fingers over his mouth. “Hush, 
little flatterer! It is only because I have emerged 
from my shabby gowns that you talk so. It is the 
feathers that make the bird so fine.” 

A page came to the door with a parcel for Pedro. 
“It is from his Majesty, the king,” he said. 

The package contained a purse of gold network 
filled with coin. 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


“His Majesty said last night that you should 
be rewarded because of the accident,” said his 
sister. 

“I am a very lucky boy,” observed Pedro. 

“And my Nilla is to serve her mother instead 
of Madame la Marquise,” said their mother. 
“And I have permission to nurse my boy until he 
is well ; so come to my rooms at once.” ! 

The Count de Saint-Victor had an affectionate 
greeting for his son and daughter, as he called 
them, and he ever was a kind and gentle father 
to them. 

Pedro recovered and was in higher favor than 
ever with Queen Eleanor. There had been a plot 
between the dauphin and others to arrest Charles 
the Fifth at Chantilly. There are different opin- 
ions as to why it was abandoned, but her Majesty 
was as grateful to Pedro as if he had saved her 
brother’s life and she did not forget the fact that 
the twins had assisted her to the best of their ability 
at a time when she was suffering from great 
anxiety. 



316 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


NIGHT IN THE OLD CASTLE 

Fabien was now a kind of cousin by marriage 
and he was well pleased with his new aunt. Dur- 
ing the following year, when Pedro had obtained 
leave of absence from the queen, Fabien accom- 
panied the Saint- Victors and the Velasco twins 
southward to their old castle on the mountain side. 

Feeling that it would not be fair to deprive 
their old servants of the pleasures of anticipation, 
the countess sent a messenger to inform them of 
the expected visit. 

Then ensued the most serious disagreement that 
ever had existed between Jules and Tomas. They 
had agreed to arrange the word “Welcome” over 
the castle gate. Brother Frangois said he would 
mark the lettering for them on white cloth, and 
they were to cover the letters with autumn leaves. 
So far the affair went along amicably enough ; but 
it was when the question rose as to what language 
was to be used that the argument waxed warm. 
It should be in French, of course, said French 
Jules, for was not the count a Frenchman? 

It should be in Spanish, of course, said Spanish 
Tomas, for were not the twins of that race? It 
317 


THE QUEEN’S PAGE 


was the home-coming of the Velascos and not of 
Monsieur le Comte. Thus they argued the point 
inch by inch, until Brother Frangois settled it for 
them by writing the word in the language of 
Bearn. And so it went up over the castle gate and 
gorgeous it appeared in letters of crimson and 
gold. 

The king himself might have envied the heart- 
felt reception accorded the party as it entered 
the courtyard. There was Aunt Catalina, tall and 
unbending as ever, but looking older, as if a fine 
white powder had been sifted over her face and 
hair. She actually seemed glad to see the twins 
once more, and was more cordial than they ever 
had deemed it possible for her to be. She was now 
the chatelaine of the castle and very proud of her 
position, doing the honors in a very stately man- 
ner. And Jules and Tomas and Olympie and 
Lenoir, the cobbler and the tailor’s apprentice, — 
all were there to greet them, and afterward the 
three children rushed away to find Tonito, all hug- 
ging him at once, which composite caress he re- 
ceived with apparent gratification. 

When they entered the kitchen a deep voice 
said, “Help! help! Jules, Jules, come here!” They 
looked at each other and laughed merrily. It was 
Gris. 

“He is always asking for me,” said old Jules 
proudly. “He could not get along without me. 
The way that bird revolves things in his brain is 
318 


NIGHT IN THE OLD CASTLE 


wonderful! He will reflect for hours with his 
feathers ruffled, remaining perfectly quiet. Then 
he will call me as if he would like to tell me the 
result of his meditations.” 

^‘Has he ever told you what he was thinking 
about, Jules?” asked Fabien with a grin. 

“Not yet. Monsieur le Marquis, but who knows 
how soon he may do so?” 

When the shadows fell and the night-wind 
swept down the mountains the grown people re- 
mained in the salon ; but the children went to the 
kitchen where, in the cheerful glow of the fire, 
they sat with their old friends, while Jules, his 
round face beaming with hospitality, roasted 
chestnuts in the hot ashes and served them with a 
sweet and spicy drink such as only he knew how to 
make. 

Here the twins told of the various happenings 
at court, while their simple audience listened en- 
tranced. But they did not tell of Pedro’s ride to 
deliver the letter to the King of Spain, or of the 
time when Petronilla personated her brother, for 
that, you know, was the queen’s secret. 

And so, while they are still in the bright realm 
of childhood with not a care to sadden them, let 
us bid the queen’s page and his sister good-by. 


THE END 


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